


Until The Very End

by SinclairMaxwell



Category: Diablo (Video Game), Diablo III, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diabloverse, M/M, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry Potter, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinclairMaxwell/pseuds/SinclairMaxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My life did not end when I was cast beyond the Veil. Or perhaps it did and I was simply too busy becoming a new thing altogether to notice. To whatever end, I fell and then I fell again, except this time for a silent Angel in black. But the devastation within the Tomb of Rakkis revealed to me a terrible truth. My beloved one had saved me once. Now it was I who had to save him from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/n: This was born purely out of need. Need to see more of these crossovers! So the rest of you writers out there who enjoy this fic, hop on it, ladies and gents! ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this stupid, busted laptop and the Applesmart that I ACTUALLY wrote this on. xD

 

**Until The Very End**

 

Prologue

 

          I ran. I ran from that darkened stony place, that place of demise, as if the skin upon my legs had sprouted a million tiny wings.

Run, run, run.

' _Harry_.'

          No! I shook my head, pushing away the whisper that followed, the horror that I had witnessed there within the shadowed Tomb of Rakkis. What had he done? My dearest one...The justice and silent tenderness that I knew curdled to darkness and hate. Wisdom...lost. Just as the prophesy had said. Prophesy. I tasted bitterness in the back of my throat like the acrid, long forgotten smell of battery acid. It seemed that prophesy would always ensnare my life in some way. I had to go, get away. Put as much distance between myself and Corvus as possible.

          I caught sight of the cloaked, racing Horadrim ahead through the murky Blood Marsh and suddenly, the image of the man within the tomb struck me. His brown eyes saw me. Human eyes...but not. No, not human. Mortal but not human. He had looked on my beloved one with such pain. The same pain that had struck within me as I watched the Horadrim consumed before me. This wasn't...This wasn't suppose to happen. We were suppose to live peacefully, quietly. But our dream had all but faded away now. What could I do? Maybe nothing on my own but...Those eyes and the terrified Horadrim ahead gave me the slightest hope. Perhaps all was not lost yet. Perhaps Wisdom could be found once again.

"Wait!" My voice came out as a croak at first, so unaccustomed to speech after years of quiet. A cough shook the dust from my vocal cords and the second shout had the young man turning my way at last. He did not stop his racing path through the wooded, brackish land but slowed very slightly so that my shorter legs might catch up.

"Wait...Please, let me help you. Let me help you recover what's been stolen."

Help me recover the angel that I love.


	2. Chapter 2


    A/N: So part of my inspiration for this fic was, of course, to see some Harry/Malthy loving, but also to explore more in depth the LORE from the series. The world of Sanctuary and the Diablo series has fascinating lore surrounding it. To those of you who may not recognize some of the bits in this story and wish to explore it more, go check out the Book of Tyrael and the Book of Cain. Both superb and even goes into full backstories on all of the classes, peoples you encounter and religions found within the series as well as places, etc.  
    
      
    
    Also...I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE FONT IN THIS CHAPTER. I'VE TRIED TO FIX IT TO NO AVAIL. I apologize, I know it's irritating to look at. The difference between the prologue and this chapter make me want to scratch my own eyes.  
    
    Chapter One...The Things I Left Behind  
    
    I remember living within the Wizarding and Muggle realm as if it were yesterday. Each one of my memories as vivid they were the day they were created. Hermione. Ron. The Dursleys. Wingardium Leviosa and animagi. Voldemort and the battle that ended that life for me. The cold claws of the man I had fought all my life dragging me through the Death Chamber after a rather embarrassing 'Expelliarmus' hit him in full view of his followers. He thought he was being terribly clever, I suppose, when he threw me into the Veil. No doubt it was an enormous surprise to him when his own wand disappeared with me. I don't know what became of Voldemort or my world after that. Whether the day was won or good had triumphed over evil. All I knew was the darkness, a peaceful void. A place between places where the souls of the dead whispered and whisked about me. Some wished only to be in peace but others...Other souls were not so magnanimous. 
    
    	It wasn't just human souls that occupied this place between places. No, other creatures, things that I had never heard of that crept and crawled through the vile dreams of the wicked wasted away here. Demons, they were called. There were Angels here too amongst many other things. Humans, creatures and some great leviathan that slithered in the most brackish of depths. They all shared one thing in common, no matter the species though. Endless whispers of an Eternal Conflict and a council. Of evil. A Prime Evil and a stone. It was all so new and strange to me that I couldn't make sense of it all. It was like trying to pinpoint a voice in a very crowded pub and then understand what that voice was saying.  
    
    The dead are a surprisingly inarticulate bunch. 
    
    	But I wasn't dead. I wasn't forgotten or gone or lost. I was alive. My heart still beat in this darkness, this void. But why? I couldn't understand it and my body floated in the vastness with that singular question on my mind. For how long? Who could say. There was no sense of time in this place. Only the shadow and the everlasting whispers of the dead. That was...until someone plucked me from the abyss and changed my endless existence forever. 
    
    	An Angel, he turned out to be. A towering man, hooded and cloaked but strangely calm and serene. He re-acclimated my body to the realm of the living, a slow process that I could only lay limply yet aware for. An Angel...An Angel who echoed the whispers of the dead but they did not overwhelm. No, they felt soothing coming from the creature. He was the tall, brooding, silent type, much to my chagrin and it wasn't until some time later that I got as much as a word from him. 
    
    	It was the first day that my body had been much use, the first day I found words, language, once again. My voice had been hoarse from disuse. How long had I been in the void? Years? The unnamed Angel had been staring out of one of the crumbling ruined windows near my bedside. It looked out on the remains of what appeared to have been a mighty fortress in its day but had been lost to the scars of age, destruction and battle. Somehow this place was what told me that we were not on my earth any longer. 
    
    "Who...are you? Why are you helping me?" I rasped, choking on the dryness in my throat. 
    
    He was quick to conjure me a goblet of water from seemingly nothing, handing it to me with sharp, talon gloved hands. Though the sharp points came to rest on my skin from time to time, they never so much as itched against my flesh, a sign of how truly in control their owner was no doubt. I had seen them slice through metals effortlessly. 
    
    	He seemed to deliberate for a long moment, tasting the words on his tongue before speaking them as if he were unfamiliar with spoken language. At last his response came.
    
    "I am Mathael, the embodiment of Death here in this realm." His voice came out gravelly, dark and filled with the souls of the lost. If he was the Angel of Death, though, I suppose that only seemed appropriate and natural. His taloned hands slipped behind my head and lifted me to seated position. My hair slipped over my shoulders and for the first time, gave some indication as to how much time much have passed within that darkened void. Merlin...Mathael sat down next to me on the small bed that I had occupied for the last few weeks now. It was nearly laughable really. He was so tall and grand, larger than life in my eyes. His wings, a set of dark purple appendages jutting out from his back but constantly shifting in motion filled my line of sight. He was...amazing. The Angel continued.
    
    "You are Harry Potter, sorcerer of the Earth realm and the Master of Death. When I became the embodiment of Death, you became my Master as well." 
    
    	Master of Death? Suddenly three objects caught my eye, lying on the bed next to me just as he did. Voldemort's pale wand, the Gaunt Ring that Dumbledore had left me in his will and my invisibility cloak. Piled so neatly and ceremonious by my side. Hermione's voice reading to us tales from a children's book all that time ago hit me like a stone. The Master of Death...And now the master of Mathael too. 
    
    "I don't know how to be anyone's master..." Perhaps not the most intelligent thing I could have uttered in the arms of a freaking Angel but the whispered declaration appeared only to please and amuse him, if the sound that echoed from beneath his faceless hood was any indication.
    
    "I am older than time, my little Master, and not one to be controlled by any man. I would be pleased with...a companion, however." His voice sounded like wind through a copse of dead trees, snagging paperlike leaves from their tenuous grasp, "My life is eternal and my existence solitary since I left the Heavens. I would have you ease that burden, if you would."
    
    Keeping an Angel company? Well, it wasn't as if as a newly supposedly immortal being I had anything else going on. It certainly seemed a better existence than listening to the dead natter on.
    
    "I would be happy to."
    
    	Our existence together became just that. A companionship, quiet, contemplative but serene. Peaceful. At least, I believed so. After a time my body healed and I was able to get up a walk with Mathael through the place we currently called home. Pandemonium, I learned it was called. The fortress was vast, it's borders farther than my human eyes could see. It had a sort of broken beauty to it, though. Certainly nothing that my own meager earth could have boasted. It was a place apart from places, the very land hovering suspended in space. Mathael revealed to me eventually that the abandoned battlegrounds of Pandemonium was the scar left behind after the violence of the birth of the realms and stood as a crossroads between all realms, including those of Hell, Heavens and this place called Sanctuary. He spoke of Sanctuary with a hissing derision.
    
    Such fantastic places and different peoples! Never had I heard of such things and I had come into the strange Wizarding World at the tender age of eleven. It didn't take long for me to convince the brooding Angel to teach me everything. As the previous aspect of Wisdom, 'everything' was a very broad term. 
    
    	Our years together passed. The world outside kept moving. But I didn't and neither did he. We were both trapped in this eternal limbo. We were trapped together though. What once was affectionate companionship because something more. Something deeper. It brought about some...awkward discussions. I was, after all, a hot blooded male and he was...well, an Angel. His body was more suited to a wavelength of celestial light than my own flesh and blood form. There was no way for us to, erm, _join_. At least, not until desire to please pushed my beloved to some very creative solutions. 
    
    Angelic wings, it turns out, are very much able to interact with human bodies. 
    
    I shook the image from my mind, trying to hide the mischievous smirk that the memory aroused. Fifteen years now we had passed together and Malthael was finally taking me outside of the walls of Pandemonium. We were leaving the fortress for the first time since the Angel had plucked me from the Void. 
    
    "Where are we going?" Excitement was practically thrumming through my entire being, barely suppressed at all. It had been a long fifteen years. A good time, but one grew bored of the constant desolation of the fortress even in a place as constantly shifting and changing as Pandemonium. 
    
    	Especially lately...My love had grown even more silent and brooding than before. His thoughts becoming dark and more oppressive as time wore on. He did not share his musings with me though. As always, he kept his own council. It was a thought that burdened me at times. Why couldn't he trust me enough to confide in me? Were we not eternal companions? Lovers? 
    
    	Malthael's spirit resounded with amusement though he did not speak. Instead, he pulled me close and with a sizzle of ozone and a flap of his mighty wings, we were gone. The light that assaulted my eyes when I opened them took me by surprise. Light everywhere, shining off of every surface and crystalline structure all around. We were definitely not in Pandemonium anymore. It was...Beautiful sounded like so trite a word, hardly justice for the majesty and glory that surrounded me now. Great white crystal spires crawled up to an arching dome above, sending rays of pure luminescence shining down into pools of the clearest water I could have ever imagined, ringed in the silver of starlight. It was so pure, so unsullied, that a ringing melody played along the surface with each ripple across the pools, singing off of the spires like a harp. 
    
    "Welcome, my little Master, to the High Heavens." The High Heavens? We were in the Heavens? Merlin..."These quarters belonged to me before I abandoned them. These are the Pools of Wisdom, filled with the simultaneous emotions of every living being in creation. And that," The Angel gestured one talon-gloved hand to an altar in the middle of the room, overlooking the pools all around, "is Chalad'ar." 
    
    	Upon the pedestal, humming with its own radiance and shining with a light that beamed up towards the ceiling, refracting into starlight across the room, was a goblet. It resembled the Goblet of Fire only in shape for that pitiful cup could have never stood against the glory of Chalad'ar, not even in comparison. It was the most amazing thing I had ever beheld. Though...something told me that with Mathael, my life would never be short of amazing things, the Angel himself included. I was transfixed as he led me close to the chalice but never close enough to peer inside. Perhaps what lay within was not meant for mortal eyes. Was I mortal any longer though? Did Malthael fear that my mind would be torn apart despite my immortality and Master of Death status? Could I even still die? He had never let me leave his side to find out and the very rare times over the last decade and a half we had lived in each other's company, I had been safely tucked away in his brief absences. Trust the Chalice of Wisdom to make one contemplate their own mortality. 
    
    "This place remains my own until another claims the aspect of Wisdom, even though I have taken a new aspect myself. When another is chosen, however, the Pools will dry and quiet. The light shall fade. These waters will die, just as all things must die. They were created for me and though Chalad'ar may be used by another, this place will never sing for any other but I." 
    
    	The very idea broke something within my heart. This shining, beautiful place falling to silence and despair...It was like seeing into a mirror of my own life should Malthael ever be lost to me. Grief stabbed at my innermost being and I didn't feel the tear tracks sliding down my cheeks until one cool finger wiped one away. Suddenly, there were more tears because I knew them now. My fingers twisting into the fabric of his black robes as my heart crumbled down around me.
    
    "Do not despair, my little Master. All things end in some way or another. Even Angels become one with the Void through death. All things end...except you." It occurred to me very briefly that this was the most my beloved had spoken at once in many years. I felt both grateful and sadder than before. The Silent Angel, they called him. 
    
    His words did not ease my mind and just as my lover's thoughts had done in past years, my heart became troubled. That was the last time Malthael would ever go to the Pools of Wisdom. 
    
    
    A/N: Read and review! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: Okay so, yeeesssss, it's a little later than I expected but I've just been completely exhausted. It's very difficult, it turns out,

 

Chapter Two...The Ones We Carried

 

The Horadrim gazed at me with equal amounts of suspicion and surprise.

 

"You saw?" I nodded and with pursed lips he took in my wispy robes and sincere eyes. The robes no doubt looked strange to him though the sight seemed to strike in the man a chord of vague familiarity.

 

Intriguing. The garb had been gifted to me by my angelic lover. Curious that mortals would recognize the cloth of an Angel.

 

I cast my gaze back to the tomb entrance, a sense of creeping foreboding filling me just as surely as the questioning whispers at the back of my mind with their staccato 'Harry. Harry. Harry. Master.' I would not answer them. No, I could not idly sit by and allow Malthael to use that wretched stone. I did not know his plans for the Soulstone, only that the gem radiated with the vileness of the Pit. He needed to be stopped and I could not do that by his side. I had to find a way to save him, to bring him back to his senses!

 

As much as it hurt me, I had to leave him.

 

Just for a time, I kept telling myself. Just for a little while, I whispered to the voice calling out for me. When I looked back to the Horadrim at my side, I knew at once that he could see the fear, the conflict and the sadness within my eyes. What had Malthael done?

 

"Please...I beg of you. Take me with you. Don't leave me here." Truly, I would be lost without aid. The world of Sanctuary was one that I had only experiences through books and lessons. I was but a babe when it came to knowledge of its peoples, places and geographies.

 

At last, after a stiff, assessing silence, the man nodded. My heart relinquished the tiniest fragment of its burden, the sadness that had been so suddenly thrust upon me. The quest and the prophecy.

 

"Very well. We journey to Westmarch. My name is Lorath Nahr, young stranger."

 

Young? Odd to think that I could be thirty-six now (discounting the unfathomable time I spent within the Void) yet I looked no older than the sixteen I had been when pushed through the Veil all those years ago. What did I even look like now? It had been so long since I'd seen my own reflection that it was impossible to tell.

 

"I'm...Harry Potter."

 

~o~

 

Thank Merlin that our journey was fair in length. Four days of fast paced travel left us both weary and withdrawn but the fatigue in my body could never be matched by the pain I felt in my soul. Every footstrike on the ground further away from my beloved was another sting, a nail being hammered into my heart. Every breath was acid down my throat, a constant battle against the tears that threatened to overwhelm me between gasps for air. Every moment of my life for the past twenty years had been in Malthael's presence. He had plucked me from the womb of the Void and given me new life, new meaning. A purpose far away from any ties to the name Harry bloody Potter. Far from prophesy and Dark Lords. Yet it seemed that my purpose continued to still. To love my Angel by saving him from himself, exchanging one prophesy for another and Voldemort for the Evils of Hell. It all came full circle. The realization tasted bitter on my tongue.

 

Still, our journey was not a silent brooding one. Lorath proved to be an able bodied distraction in times when my spirits plummeted to their furthest depths. We spoke as traveling companions do of our hobbies, of the different places of Sanctuary he had traveled and of the strange sorcerous magic that so entranced him.

 

"What this? Well...this is my wand. I use it to cast spells." I had long ago grown used to the idea that magic was practiced and celebrated freely in this world, not something to be hidden away in fear. It was an unexpected relief to find in a new world and time, a bright light at the end of a frightening, unfamiliar tunnel leading towards the unknown.

 

"You don't favor the coloring of the wizards of Xiansai, nor do you have the bulk or breadth of the monks of Ivgorod. You are a mage then?" The man asked as he watched me make a campfire for us on the third night of our trek.

 

Erm, that was a good question. What was my brand of magic considered here? So far, it was nothing like the more elemental magics of the peoples I had learned of since coming to Sanctuary. Their magic seemed so...so limited here. Based solely on attack, defense or healing. On battle. It was a sad testament to the type of world that I now called home. Sanctuary had known so much strife and bloodshed throughout its long history that the only magics to be found were those that dealt with such conflicts. It appeared that even before spilling into the human realm, the waging war between Heaven and Hell had a lasting effect here. Even the flora and fauna had evolved to fight or perish.

 

"Umm...yes?" Awkward.

 

Lorath's dark brow creased in confusion and perhaps a wary hint of suspicion. He was no fool and I was still virtually a stranger. Neither of us commented on the knife he slept with in one fist.

 

I sighed and cast a quiet 'Inflamare' at our meager pile of wood, lighting a small fire to cook our food over tonight. A quick 'Accio' towards the twitching bushes along the creek bed sent a squealing hare soaring into a bag that I had instructed Lorath to hold out. He was so surprised when the small rabbit flew towards him that he nearly dropped the satchel in shock. An uproarious laugh burst from the Horadrim's chest, startling me and leaving me staring at the man like an open mouthed twit, wand still outstretched dumbly.

 

"My, you are impressive, my friend! Never before have I seen such spells! And not even of the elemental sort, either! I've never heard of such a mage in all of my life." He grinned and the smile opened up his face, brightening his chocolate colored eyes for just a moment. He was like a kid just getting off of a roller coaster, delighted with the thrill. Something about him was contagious. What else could I do except shake my head and smile too?

 

"Well, truthfully, where I come from, we call ourselves wizards. Though I've come to learn that the wizards you know of here are very different from my people. Our spells don't have the same limitations that theirs do. We aren't constrained by battle magics or healing. Most of our spells are for more practical purposes like summoning objects to us or transfiguring a useless item into a necessary one."

 

Not necessarily true. I distinctly remember a few entirely useless Charms lessons. Who ever needs to know how to make a pineapple dance a jig, after all? Amusing but ultimately ridiculous.

 

He grinned, shaking his head in amazement, "Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. Where are you from then? From where do your people hail?"

 

The question sent a slow, antiqued ache of sadness sprawling through my chest before being lost once more in the recesses of memory.

 

"Very far from here. Far enough that I have accepted the fact that I will likely never return." Who knew though? Eternity was an awfully long time and if Malthael could come and go through the Void as he pleased, perhaps he could help me find my way back home.

 

But if twenty years had passed here in Sanctuary and an unknowable amount of time within the Void, would the Wizarding World I returned to be the same world I had left behind? Did time here in Sanctuary correspond to the same passage of time as in the Wizarding World? And even if it were the same world I left behind...did I even want to return there? Here I had the freedom of magic that I could never have on my earth. I had a whole world to explore and learn about, such fantastic things that it would send Hermione's head spinning! I had love, commitment. I had Malthael.

 

Something sad must have been in my face because Lorath cleared his throat awkwardly, plunging into filling the now heavy silence.

 

"Erm, I am from Westmarch myself. Before Tyrael recruited me for the Horadrim, I was a member of the city guard there. It's a nice place, much larger a city than the rural Tristram or smaller Bramwell but not as great as shining Caldeum. I believe you may like it there. Have you ever seen Lut Gholein?"

 

Having never left Pandemonium, I, of course, hadn't.

 

"Ahh, well it has long been known as 'The Jewel of the Desert' and is the center of trade between our Western Kingdoms here and Kehjistan in the East. It is a grand place though perhaps not as grand as it once was. It experienced a great deal of tragedy when the powers of Hell descended there some time ago. I was but a lad then but something like that...It scars the land, the very hearts of the people for generations."

 

That sounded familiar. I hummed, poking the small fire with a stick in contemplation.

 

"Yes, I understand that well. Where I come from, there was an evil man who amassed an army of wicked followers who tortured, murdered, mutilated and terrorized their way through our entire population. Even after fifteen years of silence before his return, the fear of him was so great even saying his name was taboo. Then he came back." My last words were whispered as the images of Voldemort's most recent reign of terror flashed through my mind like some sick movie. All of that death...

 

"It's rarely good men that leave such a lasting mark on history. Was the man influenced by the powers of Hell?" Lorath questioned, unrolling his pack and retrieving the materials needed to care for his weapons properly.

 

"You could say that."

 

~o~

 

Eight days of travel brought us at last to the stone city of Westmarch. However, it was not the place that Lorath had described. No, our arrival was met with the screams of the terrified, the sounds of far off destruction and the unmistakable smell of death. Westmarch was under siege and there was no question to me what terrible foe had done such a thing. The power of Death covered the city like a shroud, tingling through to my very core.

 

"What is this?!" My companion cried in horror as he witnessed the fall of his beloved city.

 

"Malthael...He's here." It slipped from between my lips as a soul would slip away from it's earthly shell. Unconsciously and powerless to halt its progression.

 

Lorath gave me a sharp look of realization before he ground his teeth and jutted his chin out in determination. Drawing his knife he charged down the dirt road with a ferocity that belied his history with battle.

 

"He will not take my city on my watch!"

 

We did not get far. Waiting in the wings along the road for any unsuspecting town's person to try and make escape were monsters. Not just any monsters though. These were minions of Death. Lesser Soul Seekers, they were called. They held the breath of the departed, the power of my beloved, within their very veins. How could Malthael do this?! Create such monstrosities, unleash such wickedness onto the world. No, something was very very wrong with my Angel and it was my duty as his lover and Master to find out what. To bring him home.

 

Brandishing my wand alongside my companion, we dove into the attacking enemies as they rush out as us from the roadside. Flashes of sickly blue magic lit the area as lightning flew towards us like a bolt. My quickly drawn shield charm was all that saved us from what would no doubt be a nasty shock. Lorath thrust with his knife and sword, I called upon an unforgiving Severing Hex. Seemingly before the battle had even started, it was done and we racing together along to corpse strewn path that led to the Westmarch city proper.

 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had this chapter finished days ago but my laptop is such a piece of garbage that I have to start it up twice just to use it.

 

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

 

Chapter Three...The Things We Once Knew

 

' _The souls of man show their potential for greatness: they can stand for good like any Angel in Heaven, or they can enact evil worthy of the lowest Demon of Hell. The power of such a choice should not rest in the hearts of beings who are here for an instant then flare and die._ ' -Malthael, The Paths of Wisdom.

 

 

Our fervent dash to the city was interrupted once more by a mob of the Lesser Soul Seekers except this time, the odds were not in our favor. A hulking brute of a monster stood towering over the rest, larger in nature and stronger than it's lowerlings. I could see Lorath grimace at the abomination before us and steel himself. He may not make it out of the fight but he would surely go down swinging. There was a surge of excitement through the enemy when they realized that we were greatly outnumbered. Bully for them because numbers meant nothing when there was a quick 'Bombarda' on the tip of my tongue. Explosions cared nothing for numbers. Except, my curse never came.

 

From out of the brush came a high pitched wail of a war cry, a strange, unearthly shriek that sent even the large mob a step back in wariness. A half second later, six figures came crashing out from the trees and set upon the enemy like a pack of hungry dogs on meat. It took a long moment before my brain caught up to what my eyes were seeing. Dogs they were, though not like any canine I had ever seen. Four of the bulky things that looked closer to something from one of Dudley's old horror movies than anything else. They were clearly not alive in the sense that Lorath or I were but neither were they foe, it seemed. The Soul Seekers shrieked away as the canines set upon their throats, ravaging through their numbers like children through a bag of sweets.

 

The four dogs were not alone, though. At their side was a hulking gargantuan of a creature, large and mighty, almost gorilla-like with the way it's arms hung down to it's knobbly knees. It was wrapped entirely in bandages save for it's disfigured face and fists the size of pumpkins. From out of it's back stuck four large poles, metal protrusions that looked nearly like oversized needles though they didn't seem to bother the creature any. It smashed it's large girth through the mob with a brute force efficiency, letting out a roar that shook the very ground itself. Neither of these creatures was the one that let out that strange war cry, however. No, that honor was reserved for the peculiar woman, their Master, at their side.

 

She was beautiful in an exotic way, with feathers tied through her cocoa colored hair, twisted through her dreadlocks. The moonlight shone off her dark skin giving her an ethereal air. The woman sported a necklace of stone and small bones, clothing that looked made from animal skins and cloth and a wicked looking dagger alongside the poison dart blowgun that she was even now aiming at the enemy with relish.

 

"The Nephalem!" Lorath cried in delight. I wish I could have shared his joy. Nephalem? My Angel had told me of the Nephalem. The cursed children of the Angel Inarius and the demon general Lilith. But hadn't the Angiris Council seen to it that the Nephalem had all died out?

 

Lorath continued, unaware of my internal struggles as the zombie dogs dispatched the last of the attacking foes, "Tyrael sent me to find you! Malthael has stolen the Black Soulstone. You must come with me."

 

The woman spoke at last and her voice was smooth and melodic as honey on chocolate. Lovely and calm even in the heat of battle.

 

"The people of the city are dying. I cannot abandon them."

 

"But you and Tyrael need to form a plan! We _must_ find Malthael."

 

Her face turned to him, stern, her elaborate feathered headdress tinkling with bits of metal and beads from where she had moved it to the back of her head momentarily. She looked as if she would reprimand him at once but instead her gaze caught mine and the Nephalem faltered. Charcoal orbs found mine and echoed with curiosity and confusion, as if she saw in me something she did not quite understand. Could she tell that I was not of this world? That I was inevitably and irrevocably tied to the very enemy she sought? She shook herself, drawing her attentions back to the here and now, and turned back to Lorath, her previous sternness absent.

 

"Tell Tyrael I will meet him in Westmarch. Go."

 

Lorath's face shone with his disapproval but at last he nodded with determination.

 

"It will be done. Come, Harry. We will go."

 

Obediently, I turned a fled with Lorath in the lead.

 

~o~

 

"Who _was_ that?" The question spilled from between my lips before I could stop its progression. The curiosity was eating at me. Such a strong and powerful woman! She reminded me of a wilder, younger version of Professor McGonagall. Untamed and uncaring of how she didn't fit in with those around her. She was a stranger from a strange land in a setting that didn't fit her at all. Just like me. Lorath spared me a backward grin as we ran around the outskirts of the city walls. There was a large, door-sized sewer grate ahead, perhaps an outflow for rainwater to drain from the city streets for it lacked the unpleasant stink of sewage. Rather it held the musk of damp and slick, algae-covered stone.

 

"That, my friend, was the Nephalem, Suna. Quite the woman isn't she?" The roguish turn his grin took was a shock from the usually stern man. Then again, we had been mostly in peril for our journey together. That didn't exactly lend the time or heart for such joking. No sense in making it awkward and telling him that women didn't do it for me.

 

"Nephalem?" I queried as we slipped into the grate and disappeared beneath the city. A 'Lumos' lit our way, hovering at the tip of my wand jovially.

 

"Yes, the only one of her kind I'm afraid. Suna is a witchdoctor, one of magic wielders from the Umbaru in the jungles of Kehjistan. She is a singular individual. A hero. It was her blade that slew Diablo, the Prime Evil and his brethren and freed all of Sanctuary from his influence."

 

Only to relinquish it to the hands of the Angel of Death...What must be going through her mind right now? Did she worry that all of her sacrifice had been for nothing? Had the world just traded one tormentor for another? Would that be how I felt if I had defeated Voldemort? Inevitably the tumultuous Wizarding World would have given rise to another Dark Lord or Lady. Strife was...certain. Eventual. Even if the Ministry had been full of self-serving interests and corruption, someone somewhere would eventually find a reason to rise up against the established order of things.

 

Still...I would never regret saving another person's life, even at the expense of my own. Even less so now that I supposedly couldn't die, though I had yet to put that to the test. If it had come down to saving Hermione or Ron or any of my friends and loved ones, I would have thrown myself to the wolves without question.

 

'My 'saving people thing', I suppose,' I thought with a faint smile.

 

Out loud, I simply replied with, "A singular individual, indeed."

 

Our journey through Westmarch's underground was quiet and tense, perforated with the sound of screams and the occasional explosion or other destruction from above. Lorath's shoulders ahead of me were taut, his hand on the hilt of his blade at all times. A crashing came from the street above and a rain of dust fell from the loose sewer grate over our heads. Lorath, no doubt very familiar with these aged roads from his time in the city guard, stopped below this portal, his face set hard with the task ahead.

 

"This will be our exit, Harry. Up there the roads are littered with the dead and dying and a wicked taint fills the city as surely as Malthael's minions. Are you prepared for what lay ahead?"

 

For the Angel that I loved...I was going to have to be.

 

Instead of answering, I responded simply by gripping my wand tightly and assuming a battle-ready stance. It seemed to please him because with a nod, he hefted himself and the creaking, weakened grate up and into the chaos that had become of the city of Westmarch above.

 

When we hoisted ourselves into the square, I had expected more of the Lesser Soul Seekers. I had anticipated rubble and the dead. What I didn't expect was a circle of arrows and swords pointed directly at my head by the very much living. It looked like what remained of the city guard as well as a few of the surviving Horadrim if judging by their similar garb to my companion's. Fortunately, their leader stepped in to halt their threat and my stomach dropped. Oh no...

 

"Lorath, my friend! It is good to see you unharmed. Did you find the Nephalem?" A bold, strong voice boomed out from the back of the crowd as he walked through the gathered. The men and women around us dropped their weapons with this recognition from their leader, relieved. As a whole, they turned to continue surveying the surroundings for enemies.

 

It was the man from the tomb. Tall, broad and dark, he stood solidly as the clear, uncontested leader of this mixed gang of defenders.

 

"Tyrael! Yes, the Nephalem entered the city to assist those trapped within some time ago. Harry and I-" Lorath was cut off as the man's eyes turned instantly from him to me, one of Tyrael's gloved hands raising to silence him.

 

The last time I had seen those chocolate colored eyes was within the Tomb of Rakkis as Malthael had lifted him from the ground with his sickle-like shotels. He had such pain in his eyes back then, as if the Silent Angel had betrayed him somehow. Why was that? Who was this man? His brows were creased in confusion as they levelled me to the spot on the cold cobblestone, the power of Death filling the air around us like a vortex.

 

"Harry Potter. What are you doing here?" The words came out in a low rumble.

 

Lorath's eyes shot back and forth between the two of us in surprise faster than my stomach could fill with ice.

 

"You know Harry?"

 

Tyrael's lips pursed and his head tilted to the side as he continued to observe me as if I were a puzzle to piece together. At least he wasn't outright treating me like an enemy. As far as I could tell at any rate. Aloof may be his default expression for all I knew.

 

"He is...known to me. I'll ask again, sorcerer. What are you doing here?" The man asked again but this time there was a sternness to his voice that hadn't been there before, a coldness. Given the horror that my beloved had brought down on Westmarch, I couldn't say I blamed him.

 

All I could do was give him my most sincere expression and plunge forward. All in or all out and if I wasn't all in, I may as well go back to Pandemonium now.

 

"I am not your enemy here." I insisted though how trustworthy my word was going to be in a crisis like this was anyone's guess.

 

Strangely, support came from a most unlikely source and most unusual ally. From out of a darkened street to our left came the witchdoctor woman, Suna. The Nephalem, as they called her. At her feet were her faithful hounds, the gargantuan creature bringing up the rear of her party. Her every step was punctuated by the beads and other such assorted brickabrack on her mask, this time over her face until she approached our odd group.

 

"He has the taste of the Undying Land about him. But the spirits have spoken. He is no enemy to us." She spoke immediately on behalf but her words were a cold comfort to me. The Undying Land? Did she mean the Void? The place where Malthael had found me? Suna leaned in close to me, far closer than my good British manners found comfortable. This wasn't rush hour on the tube, for goodness sake. The exotic woman hummed and it struck me in that moment that she smelled of wild growing things and spices.

 

"It flows within you, through you. The Undying Land and the spirits. They follow you like the stars follow the moon or the chill follows the rain. You are strange, Harry Potter, they say that you will help us in this fight. I believe them."

 

What could I say to that? 'Oh, yeah. It's because I'm the Master of Death, sorry about that'? How much did Tyrael know about me already? He'd said that I was "known to him". What did that even mean and how could he know such things? Something about him though...Something was so familiar and yet foreign to me about the stony man but I couldn't pinpoint it.

 

All I could say to her odd, revealing declaration was, "Erm...thank you."

 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: hello! So I'm trying a new writing program and I'm not sure how it's going to work out yet. I've had trouble with other programs in the past not being 100% compatible with the various fanfiction sites before so fingers crossed! Otherwise, enjoy and please review!

Disclaimer: Nope.

Chapter Four… The One Whom I Love

" _The souls swirl and writhe. I now know the truth of mortals: all paths lead to death... what ever their struggles, whatever their triumphs, they die. That is Wisdom_." - Malthael, The Path Of Wisdom pt.3

     Tyrael didn't look completely put at ease by her declaration. It seemed as good a time as any to ask a few questions of my own, however.

"I'm sorry, Tyrael, but... How do you know me? We've never met before, I'm sure." My words drew the attention of the group at large and the man himself stiffened unhappily, mouth tightening at the corners almost imperceptibly.

     He drew himself up to his fullest height and when he responded it was with a voice that commanded obedience.

"I was once the Archangel of Justice before I decided to leave Heaven for the sake of mankind. Once I returned to the Heavens it was I who took on the Aspect of Wisdom that my brother abandoned."

     Tyrael was now the Archangel of Wisdom? Somehow the idea hurt me on the inside. My love... He'd stated so far from the Angel I'd come to adore. I knew that he'd grown pensive in the last few years but this? This destruction and madness was not the Angel I knew and loved. The once-Angel continued as of he weren't tearing everything I thought I knew about the world apart.

"Malthael is my brother and his sorcerer lover was no secret from the Angiris Council. I wish to know what you are doing here and now. Why have you left my brother's side when you never parted from him before? Why should we not believe that you are still in league with Malthael, a spy for his cause?"

     There was so much in this conversation that my mind was left reeling. The Archangel of Justice... This man before me was no mortal at all or at least he hadn't been. Malthael's younger brother. And Malthael had nearly killed him in Corvus. Tyrael believed I was a spy for my lover. I suppose I couldn't blame him for that. After everything that my Angel had done... All this horror and death and for what? Only Malthael himself had the answer to that. He hasn't even shared it with me, his plans, reasonings. Nothing. The truth tasted buyer on the back of my tongue. It tasted like heartbreak.

"If you know who I am then you must know where I came from and who I was there. Do you really think I could stand by and condone this massacre when I have fought all my life to stop it? To defend the innocent and protect life? Malthael may be my beloved but he's..."

     Could I say it? Admit it out loud? I had to. No matter how much it hurt to say. Somehow, putting voice and breath to it made the truth more real. Solid and inescapable.

"He's sick. There's something wrong with him and if I want to save him and everyone else, I had to leave his side. Surely you can understand that. We're on the same side, working towards the same goal." I insisted, leveling that fact not only to Tyrael but to the impassive witchdoctor and the stricken looking Lorath.

     The Nephalem hummed, completely unconcerned with the little drama playing out before her and instead already scanning the cathedral at our back suspiciously.

"The spirits have spoken in your favor. That is all the proof of your intentions that I need. They can see into the hearts of humans and know the truths hidden within. I am satisfied with your innocence, young sorcerer." She said smoothly as if it were the most simple thing in all of the world.

Lorath seemed less certain but must have seen the sincerity in my eyes for inevitably he nodded in agreement with his exotic compatriot.

     The man, Tyrael, as I now knew him, looked at me with shrewd but kind eyes. There was no way of knowing what thoughts brewed behind his brown eyes. I observed him in turn, a small taste of anxiety on the back of my tongue. If Tyrael did not approve of my place within their party then I would have to figure out how to stop Malthael alone. A daunting task in a country that I knew only through books and Malthael's word.

     This man though, this once-Angel...This was the man who had taken the aspect of Wisdom that my love had cast off. Did Chalad'ar respond to him as it had to it's previous master? Strangely, I found myself a little...jealous on Malthael's behalf. The Chalice was created for Malthael, not for Tyrael. He still carried his sword of Justice, El'druin, after all, why couldn't the aspect of Death retain his beloved Chalice? Why did any of this have to happen? Regardless if the reasons, I needed their help.

"Please," I whispered softly, "please, help me stop this. I can't do it alone."

     There was a long considering moment where he seemed to look down into my very soul, a deep gaze that would have unsettled me once. Now, the desperation I felt to fix this outweighed any discomfort I would have felt. I met that gaze head on and eventually Tyrael gave the smallest of nods.

"Very well then. I will trust you, Harry Potter. Do not force me to regret it."

The tense standoff over, Suna turned towards the leader of our little upstart rabble, perhaps the only thing standing between Westmarch and complete annihilation with a frown.

"Tyrael, why are Malthael's armies attacking Westmarch?"

     The stony countenance morphed into something harder and more fierce. The seriousness of the destruction around us came back like a punch to the gut, full force and no holds barred.

"Because he feeds on death." Tyrael's hardened, rolling baritone explained, "Every time his Reapers kill, he grows stronger. And with the Prime Evil gone, Malthael believes this is the perfect time to end the Eternal Conflict."

     The Eternal Conflict. That's what this was really about. A small 'oh' of saddened surprise made it past my lips drawing one more the attention of my newfound companions. Their questioning expressions forced me to explain the sudden grief clouding my heart. Merlin, it was painful. To have to recount my beloved's pain because he wasn't able to. But then…maybe that's what being his lover was really about. Bearing that pain out into the open so he didn't have to. Suffering it so it didn't touch him further. Protecting him, in a way that only I could.

     Speaking it out into the air was like choking glass but I could bear this. For Malthael, I could bear this pain.

"Malthael…is the eldest of the Heavenly Host. The Eternal Conflict scarred him deeply over the centuries. He saw so much of his family suffering when only death could ease their pain… He could stand the conflict no more so eventually he fled, only to embrace the very death he was trying to escape, the death that was his siblings only escape from the torture many of them endured." I could recall as if it had happened yesterday, Malthael's lessons to me about the Eternal Conflict and the horrors that his brethren endured. The quiet, simmering wounds that festered behind his words, the pain that had been hidden there. I could almost feel the bloodshed against my skin as if I had been there myself.

     Tyrael's voice was stiff with remembered agony. Perhaps he had suffered that very same torture himself. Had he once wished for death himself? It was too personal, too raw a question to ask.

"And in embracing the Aspect of Death, he, perhaps unwittingly, tied himself to you." He whispered slowly as if puzzle pieces that vexed him previously were more falling into place, "Now that he has the chance to end the Eternal Conflict once and for all, he's descended upon the earth with all of his might."

"Humanity has nothing to do with that war!" Lorath insisted fiercely, cutting through the memories of pain that we had both revealed.

"But we are descended from angels and demons. When Malthael looks at us, he only sees demons." Suna chimed in, her zombie dogs sniffling uneasily at the ground.

     She watched them with a frown, her head tilted to the side, listening to something only she could discern. Her gargantuan shifted restlessly when the largest dog released a low whine. Before I could ask her about their behavior, I felt it. The death magic in the atmosphere was becoming heavier, like a pressure weighing down on my mind and soul. It was growing and her animals, tied to the Undying Land as she called it, could feel the press of it as well.

     Without warning, a great dark shadow passed overhead, a black omen speeding towards the cathedral before us with a sharp, eerie screech like wind through a wet cavern. I didn't need the building death magic in the air to tell me that something was about to go very very wrong. Deadly wrong.

"The church! All of the refugees are inside!" Tyrael's voice cut through the night, spurring us all into motion.

     We hit the heavy wooden doors of the cathedral as a group, flinging them aside as if they were nothing. Within the church, the feel of death was even more weighty than outside. From the direction of the sanctuary came a hideous, unearthly shrieking that chilled to the bone. Screams of the refugees echoed jarringly, clashing against the stones, entangled with the roars of souls speeding by in the form of masses of shadows and trails of pale, eerie light.

     The scene that met us in the sanctuary was one that none of us would be forgetting soon. A creature stood large and looming in the center of the devastated room. Her arms were outstretched, beckoning and taking in all of Westmarch's lost souls that had been cut down by their Lesser Soul Seekers and revenants.

"A Death Maiden! Stop her!"

     Tyrael drew his sword El'druin and Suna readied her spells. Lorath was already on point with his sword. It wasn't until I whipped out the Elder Wand, however, that the Maiden spun around, a dark and pleased air about her armored countenance. The laugh that echoed out from beneath her cowl bounced off of the stones around us, making the harsh sound even more grating and hair raising.

"Ahhhh! If it isn't the little Master! We've been looking for you." Her scythe snapped to her waiting hand with a sound like a whip.

     A thrill raced down my body.

' _We've been looking for you_.'

We. Malthael had been looking for me. A stab of grief and regret sit through my chest with the strength of a blow. Did my beloved even know why I'd left? Was he fearing for my safety even now? Fearing that I would never return to him? Would he ever forgive me for leaving his side? As we launched into the battle ahead, Suna's hounds frothing and snarling at the lead, my heart had never felt heavier. I had never hated my own duties more than the one that stole me from the one I loved the most.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Wow, it's been forever. Sorry ladies and gents! I truly have no excuse for this one lol.

 

Disclaimer: Nope.

 

Ps: I haven't figured out why Ao3 erases my indentations yet but I assure you that this chapter did have them. .___.;;; So annoying.

 

Chapter Five....The Roads We Take To Reach The End

 

_'There must be others who seek a way out of the endless strife. Angels and Demons who feel enslaved by our fate. I cannot be unique in all of creation. I know my path: I will find those disillusioned of the war and lead them.” -Inarius, The Testament of Inarius._

 

The Maiden lay broken on the carved floor of the cathedral's sanctuary, just another casualty of the Eternal Conflict. One more dead before their time. It was just a shame that she had to take out so many innocents with her. The city of Westmarch cried out in agony. The souls of the departed who remained trapped in the decayed husks of Malthael's foot soldiers cut through my consciousness like a saw through flesh.

 

“I had a nice time with a girl in that pew once. Those poor souls...” Lorath's whisper was barely audible but it resonated against some truth within me. That's what it boiled down to wasn't it? It was all about the souls. The souls of mankind, of the Nephalem, of Angels and Demons. My soul and it's loving, tragic embrace throughout Malthael's own.

 

“Let's end this madness. Where is Malthael?” The witchdoctor's righteous justice would have made me smile were we not standing amongst the victim's of my lover's genocide.

 

My mouth began to move before I realized that what came out of it was utter truth. I barely had time to process the information for myself before it was offered for my impromptu companions.

 

“He is not here. Not in the city at least.” All eyes turned to me once more and I had the grace to flush at the inquiring gaze. The truth would not be deterred though. I could feel the Angel's absence now beneath the weight of all of his minions. It hollowed me on the inside and immediately I felt foolish for hoping that this would be a simple thing. A simple in and out campaign, as if Malthael would just magically be at the first place I went and that, upon seeing me would be swayed from his mission. Stupid.

 

“Westmarch echoes with his power, true, but it's just that. An echo. He was here very recently but no longer.”

 

“He could have taken the soulstone anywhere in creation.” Tyrael's frustration brought a disarming realization home. Malthael could be anywhere...Would I be able to find him in time? I was just one person, Master of Death or not. Could I bring him home to me before his final plans came to fruition? Whatever his goal may be, it could be nothing good. The heaviness of it, the dread, sat like a stone in the back of my throat. Inside, I despaired.

.

“But what does he want the stone for? Is there any way to find out?”

 

“There may be. A sliver broke off when Malthael stole the stone. If I can study that sliver, there may be a way to discover his plans.”

 

It sounded like an awful long shot to me and a nonsensical one at that, but who was I to know? I was no scholar on the soulstones. All I knew of them was through the teachings of my lost lover. There would be no use for me in helping on that front, nothing that I could do to help when it came to the stone. Still, there had to be some way to figure out my Angel's plan!

 

“Then you study the sliver while I save this city from the reapers.” I had nearly tuned out the conversation entirely when Suna's fierce declaration punctuated the musty, cloying air of the cathedral. It was eerie, her voice in this place, bouncing off of the stones and downed, splintered pews and sounding with some sort of reverberation. As if she carried the Undying Lands even in her words and the dead were speaking through her simultaneously.

 

There. I would be no use to Tyrael when it came to matters of the stone but action? That was something I could wrap my arms around. Helping people was all I had ever known from life and this time would be no different.

 

“I will help you clear the city.” One expression looked back at me in surprise. Two more expressed grim satisfaction at my choice. No doubt Tyrael felt uneasy having me close to the sliver when it was my beloved who had stolen the stone itself. I couldn't blame him. I was just a stranger, after all. He didn't know me, only that the enemy he fought was my beloved. It wouldn't endear someone to me quickly either.

 

Suna lowered her ghoulish face mask back down to cover her features, preparing herself to leap into the breach. It was a strange thing. With her summonings crowding around her and her skull mask in place, she looked as if she would be at home with the reaper's minions. Yet somehow, there was a wildness about her that saved the powerful woman from being confused with the hordes waiting outside. It was as if she carried her people and her homeland with her as a shroud surrounding her very spirit.

 

“Then we will go.”

 

And so we did.

 

~O~

 

     The final crucible dissipated with a deathly shriek as the souls and power bound within it were freed, scattering like the ashes after a blaze. Suna didn't even have time to bay her triumph into the night before an enraged cry of denial ripped through the suddenly still air. Fury, disbelief sounded loudly, jarring against the stone walls of the cemetery around us.

 

“What made that sound?” The witchdoctor stood stiffly at my side, eying her hounds as they growled at the very air surrounding them.

 

I didn't blame them for their defensiveness. The atmosphere around us seemed to have grown swollen with death magic, pressing in with the fearful tenacity of claustrophobia. Fortunately, whoever was putting off such a power was not Malthael and after spending over a decade with the real thing, a minion's power could not phase me, no matter how strong. It was our new temporary companion that gave the answers we now sought. Myriam was her name and she was a mystic by trade. An odd woman, kind yet shrewd. She didn't seem to care much for me though if she could sense my connection to the destruction swirling about her home then it could explain it. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. Sanctuary was turning out to be as fantastic a place as I had expected despite our grim task.

 

“That was Urzael. He is the angel who commands Malthael's forces in this city. I think you made him angry.”

 

Urzael. The name was known to me. He was one of my love's fiercest generals when Malthael had commanded the Aspect of Justice. The Flame of War, Malthael had called him with some manner of pride. It would seem that Urzael was among the many who followed his leader when he abandoned the High Heavens. How many had similarly come to wreak Malthael's vengeance here on Sanctuary? To what end? And perhaps most important of all...how many more people and Angels would join that great sliding leviathan there in the Void, there in the darkness of death? We made our way back to the survivor's enclave, heavy thoughts swirling about our heads as surely as the smoke danced in the air around us.

 

~O~

 

The conversation we came upon there in the stone courtyard was not a comforting omen. Tyrael stood before the gleaming maliciousness that was the hovering shard of the Black Soulstone, the very stone that housed the fallen spirits of the Prime Evils. Even the light glinting off of the smooth surface was sickly and somehow threatening.

 

“The sliver is changing.” The once-Angel's voice was low, almost a whisper as if he were talking more to himself than anyone else.

 

The shard was different, though to what end I could not see. It was somehow...more. Fuller, like a python after gorging itself on a large meal. The wickedness of it permeated as far as the other side of the enclave, heightening the fears, despairs and desperations of the people around it. It was like a Dementor in stone-form, sucking the hope out of those unfortunate enough to come into contact with it.

 

“Malthael is altering the soulstone in some way!” Suna hissed like some sort of enraged serpent, her teeth bared at the hateful creation floating in mid-air before us.

 

So the shard acted as a mirror for the whole stone? Or was it perhaps still connected in some way to its original body, separate and yet stil one? Just like Malthael and me...Apart and yet still bound together with every breath and heart beat.

 

“Exactly. He's been gathering strength from the souls of Westmarch in order to alter the stone...yet his purpose still eludes me.”

 

“He's killing everyone! What more do you need to know?”

 

The bitterness in Myriam's voice nearly scalded just to hear. Her various copper adornments and beads clinked together mournfully as she shook her head, grieved. It was easy to forget, with her thick accent and unusual garb, that while the city may not be her native land, it was Westmarch that she called home. Now she was watching as the place she had come to love was burned down around her, the people she knew slaughtered in droves. It was less easy to forget that all of this pain and horror was caused by the love of my soul, the Angel that called me master and beloved. There was no undoing the devastation that Malthael had wrought. All I could do was try and fix it, to make up for what he had done.

Without warning a great flash filled the darkened sky and a searing, nearly unbearable heat baked the very air surrounding us. From the enclave's sheltered spot up high, the balcony gave us a perfect view when three enormous blasts of flame rocketed into the remnants of Westmarch. The air was too hot, too thin, the fire eating away at the oxygen below. Or maybe it was simply too hard to breathe past the horror that filled my heart as the countless screams of the dying ricocheted around my brain. They were all that I could hear. The shrieks of the tormented, alive and dead, as they burned alive.

The air became noxious with the smell of burning flesh while dead and living alike cooked below. My Angel...He had done this terrible thing. He had committed this genocide. Certainly, this was no doubt Urzael's doing but he was but Malthael's puppet on a string. There was no doubt within me that it had been my beloved to order this strike. How could I ever reconcile the one how had held me so tenderly as we gazed upon the splendorous Pools of Wisdom with the mass murder that I was witnessing in that very moment? How could I possibly look at Malthael the same ever again after this?

 

“Urzael. It is time for him to die.”

 

I could not have agreed with the grim witchdoctor any more.

 

 

 


	7. The Voice That Calls Me Back

A/N: We're back! I hope all of you enjoy this new chapter as much as the rest! In this chapter, we'll be getting some of the answers on Malthael and Harry and some new questions to boot! ;)

 

Disclaimer: The typewriter is mine, my bowl of soup too. But this I don't own, so please don't sue.

 

 

**Chapter Six...The Voice That Calls Me Back**

 

_'I heard a sound and did not know what it was. I sought wisdom in the Chalice but there was none. The sound called to me and I knew them...Human souls. But where? I sought them out. The darkness of the Void summoned and within its curtained embrace I found my purpose. I found_ _ **him**_.'- Malthael, The Paths of Wisdom

 

 

' _My Master has begun his work on the stone. Nothing you do matters now, Nephalem, and I will be rewarded above all Angels when I bring the Master of my Master back to him at last!_ '

 

So much for Urzael's ambition. He was now nothing but a charred mass on the uppermost floor of the Tower of Korelan, a wooden room no better than an attic. It was sad really. So much potential and such unwavering loyalty to my beloved reduced to...this. So much burned armor. It reminded me of the stories Malthael had once told me about the Battlefields of Eternity. Lined and littered with the bodies of Angel and Demon alike, the dead just left where the fell to be made an example of by the unholy Demons. Strung up on poles like some sort of gruesome banner to destruction. This was what the war Malthael waged was doing. It was making mass graves where homes and love should have been. Where people once existed and where Angels had once believed in him. He had once been the shining example of what even the other Archangels strove to be. No longer...

 

A howling wind cut suddenly through the room, a shadow overtaking what little light seeped in from the fires outside. There was a cool presence building, almost a flavor on my tongue or a rising in my blood. It was a darkness as cool and familiar to me as magic itself.

 

Malthael...and yet not.

 

It felt like my love, but somehow hollow. A shadow of the Angel himself. When the shadows lifted just enough for us to see passed them, my instincts proved to be right on the mark.

 

Standing over in the center of the room, transparent as a ghost, was Malthael himself. Or at least a projection of my beloved stood there. He looked different than he had last I saw him. His wings carried a more skeletal appearance than they once had. His presence was darker. I'm not sure he noticed me at first, hidden as I was behind Lorath and Suna's gargantuan, for it was the witchdoctor that he addressed first.

 

“Nephalem...” His voice came out more like gravel being grated down to a powder, his loathing for the woman clear in every syllable. “I will bring an end to conflict. In death, there is peace.”

 

With him, I'd had peace. Once. If I had any say in the matter, we would again. Even if I had to drag the stubborn Angel back to Pandemonium and bloody well lock him there.

 

I felt an anger stir within me that hadn't been there before. Anger at Malthael for doing this, for ruining the happiness that we'd had. Hadn't we been happy together? And now he'd gone and ruined himself and the whole world with him! The anger didn't stop the overwhelming _need_ to see him though, to let him know that I was alright. To know _why_.

 

Stepping out from behind the summoned creature, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. That ever-present longing within me that felt so like heartbreak burst with renewed life in my chest.

 

“Malthael.” The whisper was barely louder than the wind around us or the sound of the flames outside but it was enough to send his attention jerking in my direction.

 

' _Harry. Harry. Beloved. Master._ ' The murmurs that echoed down our connection punctuated every staccato beat of my heart.

 

“Harry...You are here.”

 

I nodded and felt the sting of tears pushing through the anger. What could I do to stop all of this? How could I bring him to his senses? Could I? What if, after everything that I did, it made not the slightest bit of difference? What if Malthael killed everyone...?

 

“I am. And here I will stay. Malthael...What have you done? You must stop all of this! All of those people you've killed-!”

 

“Demons. I killed demons, just as I always have.” He hissed dismissively, waving a gauntleted hand as if he might throw off my words in a physical sense.

 

“ _Humans_! Have you forgotten about me?! I'm human too!” By now, crystalline drops were spilling from my eyes freely, the helplessness and the grief clouding my entire world. I hated them for a moment for obscuring what might be last time I saw my love. No. I would fix this. I _had_ to.

 

He made a grating choking sound that I recognized after a moment's time and I felt myself flush with anger. He was laughing!

 

“You ceased to be human many many years ago, my dear Master.”

 

“It doesn't matter!” I came forward, close enough to him to touch. It was my Angel himself who reached out first. My breath sucked inward and held fast, awaiting desperately the cherished brush of his fingers on my cheek.

 

It never came. His fingers slid straight through me without so much as a resistance. He was only a shadow here, after all, a projection. He could no more touch my skin than a dream could. Malthael sighed, the only thing showing how the realization must have affected him too.

 

This...was wrong.

 

I was never meant to be parted from him. We were meant to be at one another's side always! This separation was _unnatural_.

 

His grief renewed my own tears and Malthael shook his head above me lightly.

 

“Grieve not, my Master. My servants will bring you back to me soon. Then we will never be parted again, I vow it.”

 

I could only give him a sobbing shake of my head.

 

“I cannot stand by you in this, Malthael. This is wrong! Can't you see how this is hurting me...? I can't bear to be parted from you but you've given me no choice. I love you, Malthael, but you've gone to a place that I cannot follow. Please...Please come home to me. Abandon this fruitless mission and let's go home.” My words came out between choking sobs and I didn't even have the strength of heart to try to begin to stem the flow.

 

Where was home now? Pandemonium? The High Heavens? No. In truth, home was wherever Malthael was. Wherever we could be together, love each other, in peace. Home was standing in front of me and yet so far away...

 

“I must cleanse this creation, Harry, and when it is cleansed, I will make a new home for us. I will make this plane safe for you and for my brethren. No more Angels will die because of demon scum. I will not lose you to them. My servants will retrieve you and I will destroy every man, woman and child who holds the taint of Inarius's mistake.” The Angel's countenance, previously softened and somehow gentler when speaking with his master, straightened and the hand that hand been outstretched curled into a clawed fist.

 

He looked up at Suna, his form already beginning to fade from view. The hatred for her poured off of him in nigh on palpable waves.

 

“I will be seeing you soon, Malthael.” She spat, her declaration a sworn vow.

 

With that, he disappeared at last from sight.

 

I closed my eyes and tried desperately to pull myself together. How? How could I summon myself back into some cohesive patchwork when my world was shattering around me in a million tiny fragments? How could I not despair when I had just declared myself a traitor to my beloved? To everything I had ever loved or held dear?

 

But that wasn't true either, was it?

 

I valued humanity. I held freedom and love, courage and honor dear. I had fought back in my home realm to rid the world of an evil tyrant because living in peace was important enough to die for. No more children should have to be made orphans. No more parents should have to bury their babies.

 

And Malthael hadn't treated me like a traitor, even though I felt like one. He had treated me simply as if we held a difference of opinion. As if we were talking about whether some particular food was good or not. Sure, it had obviously pained him to be parted from me but he had not seemed angry. Perhaps he knew, no matter how this turned out, that we would always have one another.

 

Or he just didn't see me as a threat.

 

It was impossible to say if it was either one or some bizarre mix of the two that made sense only in the Death Angel's mind. After all, stealing the soulstone seemed to only make some sort of sense to Malthael himself. What would he wanted something so corrupted for if he didn't have some wicked plan for it? He wasn't evil and he didn't have the feel of someone tainted by malevolence. My skin crawled at the thought of my lover touching that vile thing, the image of it emblazoned onto the inside of my mind.

 

I must have made some stricken sound for the soft touch of a hand on my shoulder roused me from my thoughts. At some point, my body had slid independently of my will to my knees. When had that happened? Suna and Lorath stood at my sides, their eyes full of sympathy for my pain. My cheeks felt damp still from the tears that had soaked the skin of my face and I'm sure my eyes were probably red-rimmed and puffy. Doubtless, I looked a mess. One of the witchdoctor's hounds nudged me with a whine.

 

“I am sorry for your loss, Harry. The strength of your pain echoes even through the Undying Lands.”

 

There was no hiding it. There didn't seem to be any way I would ever be whole again. She received a nod of thanks. It seemed to be enough for her and I was glad. I didn't know what to say in this moment, what words would even be suitable for such a time as this. Lorath clapped me companionably on my back and then gave me a hand up to stand.

 

We made our way back to the survivor's enclave with not another word spoken amongst us all.

 

 

 


	8. The Thread That Binds Me

A/N: So glad everyone was happy to see me back! This Camp NaNoWriMo, I am doing NOTHING but different types of fanfics, this one included! So plan to see more chapters over the course of this month here on Until The Very End and on my Black Butler/HP crossover! :D Also, I have a youtube channel now under the name MyServiceDogLife and I'm going to be doing a Diablo 3 series of playthroughs starting today or tomorrow so check it out! Link: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTypSMGevQBG2VHDvpazFcA

 

**Chapter Seven...The Thread That Binds Me**

 

_'I grew disgusted by humanity in my time on Sanctuary. When at last I found Malthael, I was not surprised to find he felt the same way. We will cleanse creation of the scourge that is humankind, and when we are finished, the tragic mistake of Inarius will be gone._ '-Urzael's Journal

 

 

When we arrived back at the enclave, Tyrael was standing there awaiting our arrival. He took in my sorry, red-eyed and shaky state and the grim-faced witchdoctor at my side. Lorath was shaking his head, face still filled with pity whenever he cast his eyes over to look at me.

 

“Malthael sent his shadow-form to speak with Harry.” Was all Suna said.

 

It didn't take a genius to figure out how the conversation had gone. Realizing the turmoil, the pain, I was so obviously in, I could see the moment when a small chink appeared in the armor Tyrael had held up against me since we first met. Something new appeared in his gaze when he looked at me then, something strange and unexpected. He crossed over to where Suna eased my shaking figure down to sit on a low step and squeezed my shoulder in a quiet show of support.

 

“I am sorry, Harry. I'm sorry that you have to go through all of this.”

 

What could I say? I wanted to be angry and rage about how many times I would have to live through wars in my life. I wanted to scream about how many people I would have to lose. Instead, what came out was soft, almost imperceptible and so _wounded_. Merlin.

 

“I told him...that I couldn't stand by while he killed all of those people. Even when every inch of my spirit is screaming at me to run back, to find him, to tell him I'm sorry and that I love him. My very soul is pulling, tugging me, towards his own. There is a thread that binds us together, you see...But I can't let him do this...I can't let him become a monster like Voldemort...”

 

The tears were flowing freely once more, so unchecked that I didn't even realize they were falling until Tyrael reached up to wipe them from my face. Surprised, my emerald eyes darted up to meet his own chocolate brown.

 

“You are a good man, Harry Potter. You continue to impress me no matter which world you are living in.” The Angel of Justice gave me a rare, comforting smile, the ice that formed that impenetrable armor around him melting that much more. “You are my brother's beloved, his chosen mate, and even though Malthael has lost himself, he is still my brother. That means that until we can see Malthael back to his senses, you are my responsibility. My brother chose you as his lifemate and in his absence I will protect and care for you as he would if he could.”

 

His hand came to rest on the top of my head and it finally occurred to me what he meant. I suppose that did, in a way, make Tyrael my brother-in-law by their standards. Taking his sword calloused hand in mine, I squeezed it and pressed his hand to my forehead as if I could somehow absorb some of the strength he seemed to embody.

 

“Thank you...”

 

 

~O~

 

“Adria is dead. Before she died, she summoned an image of Pandemonium. Malthael is there.” The words chilled me to the core, sickened me with the sadness that clawed at my insides.

 

Pandemonium. Where we had lived so happily for so many years. A place that I had once called home now reduced to a place of horror. Had he gone there because it was the first place I would try to return if I came back to him on my own? Or had he simply not been able to bear the thought of abandoning our little home that we had made there together? It had been the place where he brought me into this world, the only place I had ever really been until I left his side, save for that one visit to the Pools of Wisdom.

 

“No doubt he has gone to the fortress. Malthael can hold out there until the end of time. He is forcing us to come to him.”

 

Forcing _me_ to come to him.

 

I must have made a sound of distress for Tyrael and Suna turned to me as one, their faces a mask of concern.

 

“He is there...It was where we lived for so many years. After he pulled me from the void.” My exhalation was shaky and I clenched my fists tightly in front of my eyes, pressing them against my face as if doing so could help me to unsee everything I had witnessed since this disaster began. “We were so happy there once. Before...all of this. He had grown quiet but he often was! I should have seen, though. I should have seen that something was bothering him.”

 

I shook off the thoughts almost violently. There was no sense in beating myself up with those thoughts. It wouldn't help us and it certainly wouldn't help Malthael.

 

“Pandemonium was our home together. He wants me to return to him and that is where he will wait. It's the only place I know here in this world. If he wants me to know how to find him, that is where he will be.”

 

They both nodded at the logic but there was a strange frown on Suna's face, her cocoa eyes never leaving mine. Were her spirits whispering to her of some danger ahead? Of some fate to come?

 

“You must come with us to Pandemonium.” She said simply though firmly, her eyes turning skywards to search the heavens as if she were looking for some enemy to befall us at the very moment. Her brow was creased in tension and concern. “Your magic will be an invaluable asset.”

 

Nothing got a demon out of the way faster than fiendfyre or a quick 'Bombarda', that was the truth.

 

The Archangel of Justice, however, was not so sure.

 

“No. Harry must remain here with the survivors where he can be safe. Malthael is powerful already but I fear what may happen if he regains his master. I fear what will happen if Harry goes into his domain freely.” The man rejected, sticking fast to his determination that he be the protector that my beloved could not be.

 

“I fear what will happen if he does not.” Suna insisted but her words fell on deaf ears. I was to stay behind and help the survivors clear the city of rubble and the dead and perhaps even add in some wards to help the city should the army of the dead return to see it's awful deed completed.

 

That night, we stayed within the enclave so that Suna and Tyrael might gather their strength. The darkness spread across the city but, for what seemed like the first time in an eternity, it was a quiet, natural stillness. A progression of night into day. Of course there were still those out working in the city around the clock but they were fewer and further between at this hour. Everyone seemed far more content to sit around the large fire in the corner of the area or sit in groups here or there with friends or loved ones who had made it through the siege. I had helped a group of ladies prepare the evening meal for everyone, scavenged from items that could be dug out of partially destroyed structures or taken from homes where only the silent, still dead watched on.

Several more survivors, fifty or so who had holed up in basements or locked cellars and ridden out the massacre, had made their way to the enclave in varying states of injury. We did all that we could for the ones who could be helped, my own paltry healing abilities doing what little they could. Mostly, I simply summoned and heated water and transfigured bandages. Hogwarts, despite all of the random violence and insanity, had offered little by way of battlefield readiness or medical training. Nonetheless, to my embarrassment, the locals of Westmarch were singing my praises by the end of the night. It seemed only right to help though, considering that it had been my beloved who destroyed their homes and killed their loved ones, not that any of them knew that. I had no doubts that they would be burning me at the stake rather than praising my skills if they did.

Nevertheless, I found myself seeking solitude after a time, peace in order to sort out my own thoughts and feelings. The cool night breeze whispered of a coming fall, carrying with it the stale taste of smoke from the last of the fires that had been at last eradicated. I shrugged the cloak Lorath had procured for me tighter around my body to fight against the chill. No cloth, however, could defend against the chill in my heart. Fears that I had been too afraid to examine before were beginning to creep back into my mind. Hope was giving way to despair.

 

What if Malthael wouldn't be dissuaded from the destruction of Sanctuary?

 

What if there was nothing that I could do?

 

What if I was too late to alter Malthael's fate and the only thing that could be done...was to put him down?

 

What happened to Angels when they died? Did they go to the Void? Or was that only under certain circumstances? There had been precious few Angels in the Void when I had roamed its darkness. Was the Void what Suna referred to as the Undying Land, or just some place between there and here? Perhaps the Void was a place for lost things. Things stuck in a state of...transition. If Malthael ended up in there in that blackness then nothing on this world would stop me from joining him there. It hadn't been a terrible existence. Boring, desolate and lonely on my own but with my Angel? It was a far, far better place to go to than the thought of walking all of this wonderful world alone.

 

“Your thoughts are heavy tonight, Harry.” Tyrael's deep voice broke through my introspection like a strike of thunder, startling me practically out of my skin. I hadn't even heard him approach so lost in my own mind I'd been. “Won't you share them with me?”

 

My gaze turned back to the city down below as the sun died behind the roofs and steeples. Should I confide in him? He doubtless understood Malthael more than many others. He was my Angel's brother, after all. Tyrael seemed as though he would much rather see the Aspect of Death imprisoned rather than destroyed. He seemed as if he actually loved Malthael despite the destruction and tragedy that had been done.

 

“Tyrael...where do Angels go when they die?”

 

To his credit, he didn't appear surprised by the question. He came to lean against the wall at my side, his own eyes finding Westmarch below. A scant few lanterns and torches had been lit within and without occupied domiciles. The people were beginning the slow process of moving on. They would rebuild but the city would likely never be what it once was. Far too much had been lost. His large bulk heaved a sigh.

 

“My brother has changed many things. There was no Aspect of Death in the Heavens before his change, even. It is...impossible to know what will happen to Malthael should he be destroyed.” He admitted begrudgingly, softly. The answer came to me like a physical blow. My eyes closed against the pain of it. Not even a fellow Archangel could begin to guess at what was to come.

 

I found myself speaking, though, before the cognitive decision had even been made. My words came spilling forth without any permission of my own and I found myself confiding in the solemn man at my side.

 

“My life in my home realm was nothing but despair and fighting. When I became Master of Death, I wasn't even aware of it until my Angel brought me to Sanctuary. Death, it seemed, followed at my heels no matter which realm I wandered. When Malthael found me, I had been traversing the Void for an eon. Then, suddenly, out of the darkness, came this shining creature. Beautiful and more kind than I had ever experienced. He plucked me from the abyss and nursed my body back to health, all without asking anything in return but my companionship. He claimed me as his own and he was mine in turn.”

 

The wind sent strands of my hair whipping around me in a dance, the strands tickling my cheeks like the featherlight touch of tears. It was painful to recount those happier times. Those moments when we had just _been_ , simply and undeniably. Would we ever have those easier times again?

 

“Now, after everything that's been done, I fear that we will never have that happiness again. I fear that I will lose him and, in him, everything that I hold dear. I fear forgetting how happiness felt.” I ran a frustrated hand through my errant locks, furiously tugging on the strands as if they had somehow caused all of this grief, “What if the soulstone has changed Malthael? What if it's proximity will corrupt him?”

 

The Aspect of Justice appeared to take in my words, carefully mulling them over for a long silent moment. What could be going through his mind in that minute, I wondered. What did Justice ponder in the quiet times? At last he chuffed a heavy sigh and with a rolling of his large shoulders, Tyrael hefted up his longsword. He held the weapon out for my eyes to peruse, its metal gleaming beneath the torchlight. After my momentary surprise at his seemingly random drawing of his weapon, I observed the sword carefully and tried to see what it was that the man was trying to show me.

 

The weapon was obviously crafted by heavenly hands, that much was obvious. Its hilt burst outward in a starburst, reminiscent of angelic armor, and the curvature of the blade itself was very much a relic of the architecture found within the High Heavens. Inlaid in the center of its hilt was a strange gem that sang with an angelic resonance. It was truly a work of art.

 

“This is El'druin, the Sword of Justice. It has been my lifelong companion these many eons. I lost it once for a long while but we were reunited at long last. It is so much a part of my soul that when it was lost to me, I actually lost all sense and memory of who and what I was. El'druin is just as much a part of me as I am of it, just as Malthael is with his scythes and just as you are with Malthael. Do you understand?”

 

No. Not at all.

 

I must have had a strange look on my face because he laughed out a short sound before he waved on that strange and convoluted explanation to begin anew.

 

“El'druin, Harry, is a fierce and powerful protector of the good and righteous. It cannot harm that which is righteous in cause.” Oh? Then, slowly, the lightbulb began to turn on in my mind. _Oh_. “When you and I first saw each other there in the Tomb of Rakkis, I attacked Malthael with this sword and the blade passed through him. El'druin could not harm him because, at the heart of all of this, my brother still only seeks to do good. He wishes only to save his fellow brothers and sisters from more death by ending the eternal conflict in the way we always have since time immemorial. By eradicating every last demon from existence.”

 

He sheathed the sword in one smooth movement, a soft smile on his otherwise stern face.

 

“I do not believe Malthael is being corrupted by the soulstone. I believe that he simply thinks that humanity is more demon than anything else and is acting accordingly.”

 

It was both news that was good...and troublesome. How could my beloved be turned away from a path when he believed that the lives of his brothers and sisters depended on that path? When he truly believed that what he was doing was the actual fulfillment of Justice?

 

Once again, I was left with no answers.

 


	9. The End I Go To

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has enjoyed the story so far! I know it's kind of an obscure pairing but it had to be done! XD Also, for those of you who were interested in the Diablo 3 playthroughs that I'm running on Youtube, I have decided to do those on a separate channel that will be called Loremaster Talus'ar. Not only will I be posting my gaming playthroughs there but I will also be doing videos solely dedicated to Diablo lore/theories! It's a project I am very excited for so I hope all of you will enjoy it as well.

 

Disclaimer: I don't any of this business, capiche?

 

**Chapter Eight...The End I Go To**

 

_"The humans cannot be trusted. They are born of angel and demon, but demons pervert whatever they touch. The humans are corrupt, and are not worthy of the choice between good and evil. Angels and demons do not choose, as it should be."- Malthael, Paths of Wisdom_

  
  


Tyrael had given me much to think about and, with his words heavy on my mind, I sought to wandering as I had in my youth. I remembered walking the corridors under my invisibility cloak at night, alone with my thoughts and unseen to all. Especially Snape. I hadn't seen my cloak for some time but I knew it was there, watching and waiting for me in the ether of the air. Waiting for me to command it into being. The Elder Wand lay at my hip as it had since I had come to Sanctuary and the ring had been on my finger for so long that the flesh beneath the band was a paler color than that around it.

 

Westmarch's citizens had long since gone to bed by now, preparing for early days to scrounge for food from unoccupied store fronts and homes and continue to rebuild. The streets were empty of danger and human alike.

 

Or at least, I thought they were.

 

It wasn't until I was halfway down the road heading towards the now cleared bone repository that I saw it. Just the edge of a brightly glowing wing, its tendrils glimpsed just ducking into an alleyway. An Angel? Here? Could it be Malthael come to collect me?

  
  


But, no. The wings weren't the near skeletal image of the Aspect of Death’s. Then who?

  
  


Without thought to the potential dangers or consequences, I gave chase.

  
  


Westmarch’s streets were blessedly empty of people but rubble still littered and lined the roads from crumbled buildings and other decorative structures. Many of these had been caught up in the fire blasts that had destroyed a portion of the city. Consequently, once I had finished scrambling over them I was filthy and covered in soot. My hands were blackened with ash, dirt and the blood that had stained one handhold. My skin crawled at the thought that I may have just been climbing over someone's crushed body, trapped under there until the rubble was cleared. There was no helping it though.

  
  


Suna had been right about one thing and I wanted answers for myself.

  
  


_Where are the angels? Why aren't they helping us?_

  
  


There was an Angel here now and I would be damned if I didn't ask them for myself.

  
  


I bolted over the last of the debris barring my path, my feet sliding on some loose stones. It was only by the grace of Merlin that my footing held and I was running down towards the alleyway faster than you could say ‘Quidditch'. I half expected the angelic visitor to have disappeared by the time my paltry human speed caught up but strangely enough, the heavenly warrior was still there.

  
  


That turned out to not be such a good thing.

A single moment after my eyes registered the Angel’s presence, a bright light burst from beneath my feet, an arcane sigil carved into the ground. I had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

  
  


I had run right into a trap.

  
  


Before I could even take a breath to shout, the world exploded into light and I disappeared, my body leaving Westmarch behind.

  
  


**~θ~**

  
  


The light took several long, heart attack-inducing moments to clear from my vision. My pulse thudded like a train in my ears, fear and blindness making my mind run away into terrified memories.

  
  


_Facing down Voldemort for the last time. Being dragged bodily in front of tearful, scared friends and laughing Death Eaters. The look of smirking triumph on the Dark Lord's face as he watched me disappear within the Veil._

  
  


At some point, I had cast a quick ‘Protego', though when I had done so was anyone's guess. Fear ruled my logic in that second, at least until my sight began to clear and my surroundings became more and more familiar.

  
  


Bright light shone off of every surface, white marble edged in gold. A fountain of water clearer than any other in existence and singing with the loveliness of purity. At the head of it all, standing on a pedestal, was Chalad’ar.

  
  


The Pools of Wisdom.

  
  


“Forgive me for startling you, Harry Potter.” The musical voice came to me from behind and I spun around quickly to behold the Angel at my back.

  
  


No, not an Angel. An _Arch_ angel.

 

  
He had the distinctive larger wings and powerful aura of one of those generals of Heaven. Clad in neutral gray tones, his voice was neither masculine nor feminine and yet, somehow, I knew that the Angel was a male without question. Tyrael was the only other Angel I had ever met outside of Malthael's forces so the identity of this one remained a mystery. His gender, however, narrowed it down to two suspects: Valor and Fate.

  
  


"I am Itherael, Archangel of Fate. I have been watching you for quite some time, beloved of my brother.”

  
  


“Why did you bring me here?” I demanded, unsure if I should look on this new intruder as an enemy or ally.

  
  


“I am charged with writing in the Scroll of Fate all things that have been or will be. All things that can be written in the world of Men, Angels and Demons. All things save for the Nephalem...and you.” The surprise was as plain on my face as I felt it in my being. Malthael had told me of the Talus'ar and the awesome powers that it contained. To be all but invisible to its omniscience was puzzling.

  
  


“That's fascinating and all, but what does that have to do with kidnapping me? Tyrael and Suna are leaving for Pandemonium to stop Malthael soon and I need to be there. I need to-” _Save him. Love him. Bring him back home to me._

  
  


I didn't know how to finish that sentence. Tyrael would not allow me to go to Pandemonium with them. I couldn't even be relied upon as an effective guide because of the ever-shifting, constantly changing nature of the place. I could only get in their way there, but if I didn't go then how would I have the chance to convince Malthael against his murderous plan? If I couldn't go to where he was, how could I save him from himself?

  
  


Ithereal interjected, cutting through my thoughts with the efficiency of a scalpel, “You will help no one by going to Pandemonium with the Nephalem. That is her path, not yours.”

  
  


“You don't know that! My magic could help them! You don't know anything about me!” I shouted, feelign unreasonable even in my anger but it just felt so good to be angry for once. The helplessness was the fuel but it was the fire of anger that warmed my blood for the first time since this whole disaster had begun.

  
  


Rather than being angry and my outburst, the Archangel's aura softened with what could only be interpreted as a fond smile, or at least what passed for one on a being without an actual face.

  
  


“Oh, Harry. You have always been one of Fate's rare chosen. I have watched over you long before you ever came to Sanctuary, from the day were conceived within Lily Evans' womb. I knew even then that you would be destined for great things. You were always meant to be exactly where you are.”

  
  


All of the suffering that I had experienced growing up, all of those centuries within the Void, Voldemort. All of it had been watched over and preordained like some weekday sitcom. Emotion welled up inside of me, all vying for control at once. Rage, sadness, helplessness, shame. For an instant, rage won out, as old and comfortable as it had felt in my youth when I had been prone to childhood arguments and spats. Lashing out at cosmic deities though? Even Ron would have hesitated on that one.

  
  


“If you're so all knowing then you should know how this whole conflict ends!”

  
  


The Angel's amusement faded in the face of my accusation. He paused for a long moment, studying me intently as I tried to pull together the pieces of my scattered and fragile emotions. At long last, Ithereal nodded.

  
  


“I do. That is why I have brought you here. I am entrusting only you with this knowledge, Harry Potter. Not even my brothers and Auriel know what the future will hold for the Heavens.” He pierced me with that all-knowing gaze once more and even without being able to see it, I could feel the weight and seriousness of the situation settle heavily on my shoulders. “I have brought you here because I believe you are the only one who can stop what is to come. My brother, Imperious, would disagree but I have seen what is to come. If Malthael and the Nephalem are allowed to do battle against one another, the Nephalem will be victorious.”

  
  


My stomach turned to ice at the ramifications of what he meant. All of my anger drained out of me in one cursed breath. For the second time tonight, I wanted to sob in frustrated hopelessness. The powerlessness sucked at me. Suna would win and my Angel would lose. And losing meant...

  
  


' _In death, there is peace_ ,' I heard him whisper in the depths of my memory. I almost begged Ithereal to stop, to tell me no more. The words stuck in my throat though, trapped under the weight of responsibility and love.

  
  


“Malthael will die and because of his actions, Diablo and all of the seven Evils of Hell will be free to walk Sanctuary once again.”

 

Everything Death would have worked for, everything he would have sacrificed, would not only be for nothing, but would set free the very darkness he wished to destroy.

 

“If you foresaw all of this happening...why didn't you stop him from becoming the Aspect of Death in the first place? Why not convince him before he even left the Heavens to stay? Why not prevent all of this before he even changed in the first place?”

 

It was a fair question. Why hadn't Ithereal stepped in and prevented all of this? Were all Angels just complacent? So caught up in their own side of the struggle that they could care less what happened to anyone else? Tyrael being the exception, of course. Why?

 

“Did Malthael tell you how Angels are born?” He had. “Only four times in all of the Scroll of Fate does an Archangel change from one thing to another, one of those four being Malthael's change from the Aspect of Wisdom to Death. Another example is Tyrael and his casting off of his divinity to become the mortal Aspect of Justice. Only the Crystal Arch can compel an Archangel to become something new. Even now, Tyrael is beginning to hear the Arch's call to change again, this time to take on the mantle of the Aspect of Wisdom where Malthael once stood.”

 

Slowly, I was beginning to see where he may be going with this long winded history lesson. However, the conclusions I was coming to only left me more confused and with more questions than before. Wisdom, however, had taught me patience and the virtue of silence.

 

“Only the Arch can control such a thing. Do you understand? I believe that it was not Malthael's choice to become the Aspect of Death but the command of the Crystal Arch itself. His views on humanity are all his own, but becoming Death? That is not a choice that an Angel is capable of making for themselves.”

 

“But why force him to change? Why then?”

 

Ithereal's aura was smiling again but this time it was soft and saddened.

 

“I believe it was to find you. I think that the Arch cold sense the Master of Death in the Void and, knowing that any Aspect of Death would inevitably be bound to you, ensured it. Malthael and your union was decided long before you came to Sanctuary, I believe, and the Arch sought to bring you here for a purpose: to stand at my brother's side and to bring this conflict to an end at last.”

 

Great things, indeed. But wasn't that what the Sorting Hat had said to me when I was just eleven years old?

 

' _You could be great, you know_!'

 

I didn't want greatness or power or destiny. I simply wanted my love back at my side. My ultimate question had been pulling down my heart and soul throughout all of this revelation and at last, it came spilling out without thought or remorse. It was the question Suna had voiced to Tyrael only hours ago, the same question that I had asked myself time and time again since then.

 

“Ithereal, where are all of the Angels? Why are they not helping us to bring this to an end for themselves? Why haven't you done _anything to help_?” If there was a tone of accusation in the last of my words, then the Aspect of Fate didn't seem slighted by it. Instead, he merely gave that smile once more.

 

“Don't you see, Harry? I just have.” He stated plainly, almost mischievously.

 

Without another word, without so much as a 'by your leave', Ithereal disappeared in a flash of angelic resonance leaving me behind in the closed off and abandoned Pools of Wisdom with no way out.

 

I was trapped.

 


	10. The Love That Finds Me

A/N: Oh, Camp NaNo! If it weren't for you I may have never started writing on this fic again. :) And of course that Necromancer character pack and the epic new patch 2.6.0! xD

 

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

 

**Chapter Nine...The Love That Finds Me**

 

 _"A_ _nephalem t_ _rapped the_ _Prime Evil_ _in the_ _Black Soulstone_ _. This is the perfect moment to end the_ _Eternal Conflict_ _. The demons are easy prey – but the humans must be eliminated before they grow too strong. The soulstone is the perfect weapon. The Eternal Conflict will end.” -_ Malthael _,_ The Paths of Wisdom

 

 

I had not been at the Pools long before I felt a disturbance in the air of the room though it felt like hours.

  
  


I had set my weary body down to rest at the edge of one of the pools, my hand tracing lightly over the marble where Malthael and I had once lain together. To my amazement, the stone there was warm as if it too held memory of that day. Our one perfect day.

  
  


What would it take for things to go back to the way they were then? Maybe nothing. Maybe only death could reset the balance now. Ironic, that.

  
  


I felt him the moment he materialized into the room, the place that had once been his sanctuary. The Pools began to ring and sing in perfect harmony like a glass when one runs a finger over the lip. It was beautiful and yet somehow mournful all at once. For a long instant, neither of us said anything and I did not turn from my observation of the marble to look at him.

  
  


“Do you remember when you brought me here? And we made love in this exact spot?”

  
  


“I do.” Malthael's voice came from behind me.

 

Once I heard the rumbling cadence, the urge to turn and see him for myself was more than my resolve could bear. He was as perfect as ever in my eyes. As tall and regal, as deadly and as protective as he always had been. Even now, after everything he had done and all of the horrors he had committed, I wanted him with a strength that had not lessened over our time apart. My body warmed at the sight of him and at the memory of what had occurred when last we had been in this sanctified place.

 

My thoughts must have been plain for him to see because I could feel an answering pulse in his own aura. Malthael came to me in a quick glide, kneeling at my side. His gauntleted hands hovered just over my skin as if he were afraid that his touch would now be unwanted and unwelcome. The sight of him, here with me, brought Ithereal's vague words back to the front of my mind.

 

' _I think that the Arch could sense the Master of Death in the Void and, knowing that any Aspect of Death would inevitably be bound to you, ensured it. Malthael and your union was decided long before you came to Sanctuary, I believe, and the Arch sought to bring you here for a purpose: to stand at my brother's side and to bring this conflict to an end at last._ '

 

I remembered those words and what Ithereal had done became suddenly too clear.

 

In this place, of all places, Malthael had been connected to the Pools just as Tyrael was connected to El'druin. His very being resonated with Chalad'ar and its presence here. He knew the moment that I had stepped foot in this place. His soul would have sang with it as surely as the song at our back was singing with my need.

 

_'Don't you see, Harry? I just have.'_

 

He helped in the only ay he knew how, in the only way he thought would make any real difference: By uniting me with my beloved. By seeing me returned to Malthael's side.

 

With that loneliness and that overwhelming feeling of simply missing him in my life, I couldn't even find it in myself to be angry about the deception.

 

“Master...” His voice was almost a rasping moan, a pleading sort of question. Did I still love him? Was he still wanted? Could I ever still love him after working with his enemies?

 

When I reached out for him, there was no hesitation in him as he scooped me into his arms like a bride.

 

When he disappeared with me in his hands, I welcomed it with open arms.

 

Ithereal had been right about one thing. I was exactly where I was meant to be.

 

Damn him.

 

_**~o~** _

 

Tyrael observed the sigil burned into the very cobblestone of the ground with an expression of grim anger on his dark features. Suna stood nearby as her hounds sniffed and snarled at the surrounding area, searching and failing to find any indication of Harry's presence for further tracking. For all intents and purposes, he had been walking down the street one moment and then the next, he had simply vanished, leaving behind no trace of himself save for this strange sigil that had been scoured and burned into the very stone of the street itself. There was a familiar magic in the mark itself but the witchdoctor had wanted Tyrael to confirm it for himself before she came to her final conclusion.

 

“This is a Heavenly warding, indeed, my friend. An Angel left this behind and no low level Angel either. I can assure you that it was not done by one of Malthael's Reapers either. It holds no taste of death in its magic, only light.”

 

An Angel? And one unconnected with the Aspect of Death? What would an Angel want to do with Harry? Perhaps, they believed that he could lead them to Malthael, she thought with a dark curiosity. Surely they wouldn't hurt the youthful sorcerer. Right? No. The spirits whispered to her from across the Void. No, the said. The Angels did not wish harm on Harry. They were sure of that, at least.

 

“But what is the mark for, Tyrael? Surely Harry could not make such a ward himself.”

 

The Aspect of Justice's brow furrowed deeply and it sent a spark of anxiousness coursing through her belly like cold water.

 

“The mark was once used for Demons that the Council sought to capture and interrogate. It is for entrapment...and transportation.”

 

Harry had been stolen from right out from under their noses. Tyrael could not have suspected that his earlier reassurances, his confession to Harry, would be the last time he saw his brother's beloved until the very end.

 

_**~o~** _

 

Our reuniting was as bittersweet as a rainbow during a hurricane. We had arrived back in Pandemonium with a soundless flash of mist-like wings. The bed that I had first been placed on when I have been brought to Sanctuary nearly forty years ago met my back as Malthael placed me down with the loving care of someone who's world revolved around my simple existence. His hands found their way into my long, dark hair and tugged me as close to him as I could be while still wearing a physical form. It felt so good, so _real_. Being held up against the Angel I loved most was the most real I had felt in many months. I felt solid at his side for the first time since we had parted. Surely there was nothing more right than laying against my beloved.

 

Not for the first time, I cursed my mortal shell. My lips ached to kiss him, to be united together in a way that we never could be. Even as imperfect as it was, being with Malthael felt like coming home. At long last. Never before had I felt such pain as being separated from him. The separation was over...but the struggle was only just beginning.

 

Yet as I cried out beneath him, my sweat-soaked form giving in to his ministrations, body and soul, the awareness of duty and of responsibility was as far from my thoughts as they possibly cold have been. All I knew in those heated moments of pleasure was how deeply and irrevocably my soul was tied to Malthael's. All I knew was how much I loved him in spite of his flaws.

 

Even as long a time as my body had traversed the Void, even as lonely as it had been, if it meant never again being parted from my Archangel, then I would wander the Void for all of eternity just to keep him by my side.

 

The knowledge made me weep even as I cried out my completion to the stones and empty space of Pandemonium Fortress.

 

 

A/N: SO I know this one was short but it's for a reason. The next chapter is the beginning of the end, the start of the last arch of this story. Admittedly, it has been a lot shorter than I originally planned for but I cut out a lot of the filler arcs like the hunt for Adria. I DO have another Diablo/HP story in the works though it likely won't have a pairing and it will take place during Diablo 2, not 3. However, this fic is far from over yet! Unlike the games, this story is not going to end with the big “final battle” sequence!

 

 


	11. A Soul So Divided

A/N: Ohhhh boy! Getting down to the good stuff now! BTW, the last few chapter titles come from a book series called the Song of the Wanderer that I read when I was very young. For some reason the song from that book series always kind of stuck with me and it crops up every now and then.

 

Disclaimer: Nope. Bugger off.

 

**Chapter Ten...A Soul So Divided**

 

_ ‘I know that this war can have no victor, only an eternity of revenge, pride, and hatred. Tyrael does not understand. He cannot see beyond the glory of battle. In time, he may, but that day is not yet here.’- _ The Testament of Inarius

 

Sometime later, after we had made love once, twice, I finally sat up from my repose and looked around the place that had once been my home. Pandemonium was home no longer, though. Not like this.

 

Surrounding the larger round platform where we had often looked out over the realm as it shifted and changed was an enormous orbs of swirling souls and death magic gluing them all together. It writhed and twisted with the sickly pale hues of the departed, the black and smoky grey of Malthael's power. The feeling of death magic was palpable here at the heart of his stronghold.

 

It didn’t disgust me nor did it bring on the sheer anger that it had inspired in Suna. It just made me feel...sad. I felt as if I had lost something precious and irreplaceable when my eyes caught sight of the whirling vortex. Loss clouded my heart, the grief so near that it sucked at me. What must it have looked like, the desolation on my face? It was there, beyond a shadow of a doubt, for the Aspect of Death glided to my side, ready to defend me the indefensible. 

 

“Harry, what ails you?” He grated out softly, fingers poised and tightening on his sickles as his gaze slowly searched the surrounding area for danger. When none became readily apparently, Malthael took in the sight of my body to look for any indication that i was suffering. If only he knew. “Are you in pain?”

 

For a few long seconds, the words were trapped in my throat, dying in my mouth. What a question! What a simple yet complicated question. All that I could do for those moments was to nod my head in the affirmative. Finally, my words found life and my thoughts at last found breath.

 

“My heart is sick, Malthael. It hurts me to see you do this, to see what you’ve done to our home.” He drew back ever so slightly in surprise at my declaration, “Please stop this, love. Please end this! Don’t you see what you’ve done to this world?! To  _ us _ ?”

 

My pleas fell on deaf ears. 

 

Malthael shook his hooded head, looking up at the swirling mass of souls above us. What did he think of the sight he had created? 

 

“The humans cannot be allowed to exist any longer.” His gaze turned back to me and at once I felt naked and exposed before him like I never had before. It felt as though he were peeling back the layers of me to get at what lay beneath my surface. 

 

“Once,” The Angel continued, his tone firm and resolute in the face of my dissention, “I made the choice to withhold my vote on the fate of Sanctuary and on the human race as a whole. Without my vote, this cursed realm was spared. I am casting my decision down on these mortals now and striking this wicked race from the face of creation along with their demon spawn kin.”

 

“Do not do this. I know you think that this is wisdom, Malthael, but it is nothing but madness!”

 

“ _ Enough _ !” His roar echoed throughout the whole of the fortress and for the first time since meeting the Aspect of Death, I flinched away, “Enough. Harry...enough of my sister’s and brother’s blood has been spilled on behalf of this conflict. No more will-”

 

The Angel halted mid-sentence, his form turning to observe the other side of the platform where the wall of souls obscured what lay outside. His entire being seemed to suddenly radiate anticipation. My stomach dropped with fear and the gut-wrenching enormity of my despair.

 

“The Nephalem...is here.”

 

I had failed.

 

**_~O~_ **

 

Suna had seen me within a few steps of entering the platform. Malthael had left me to the back of the circle so that I might avoid any friendly fire. As if that mattered when he was tearing my soul to pieces with every strike and clang of his scythes against her bejeweled sword. She had called out to me, to ensure that I was alright, but what reassurances could be given? My heart felt as if I were bleeding internally. My love had launched his attack with a single fierce beat of his milky pale wings. She was holding her own admirably but how long until one of them landed a killing blow? How long until someone I cared about was killed? 

 

“ _ Death comes, Nephalem. _ ”

Death comes. Death. But wasn’t I supposed to be the Master of Death? How many times had Malthael called me such? It had become a term of endearment between us over the years but he had said that when we had first met too. 

 

‘ _ You are Harry Potter, sorcerer of the Earth realm and the Master of Death. When I became the embodiment of Death, you became my Master as well. _ ’ 

 

But what did being the Master of Death really  _ mean _ ? Did it mean that I could order him to do something and he would have to? Or was it more of a title than an actual role to be played? More importantly, could figuring it out somehow save Malthael and all of Sanctuary? 

 

My eyes found the pulsating, malevolent thing that this fight was all about, suspended above us in the heart of the maelstrom. 

 

The Black Soulstone.

 

That damnable creation that housed all seven of Hell’s Evils. From the inside of it, I could hear Diablo whispering his foulness into the air, trying to manipulate those below to his whims. Yet...I was untouched by it. His poisonous words could not reach me, somehow. I heard and yet was unaffected by his evil. Was that because of my Master of Death title? Because of the Hallows? Or for some other, stranger reason? As I watched the cursed stone, Ithereal’s voice came back to haunt my heart.

 

_ ‘Because of his actions, Diablo and all of the seven Evils of Hell will be free to walk Sanctuary once again....the Arch sought to bring you here for a purpose: to stand at my brother's side and to bring this conflict to an end at last.’ _

 

Looking at that stone, at last I began to understand.

 

Suna was beginning to visibly tire but so too was my beloved. It would be over between them soon and the victor would stand on the blood and bones of the fallen to determine the fate of Sanctuary itself. 

 

“You are out of time, Nephalem!”

 

I knew now what Malthael planned to do with the stone. I could read it in the way he kept it close, in the way he regularly glanced at it during the battle. Every inch of my being, every cell of my body, crawled at the thought of my beloved using that wretched stone. The idea of my silent, loving Malthael, who had held me so tenderly only hours ago, taking that  _ thing _ into his body was revolting. 

 

But…

 

If I could somehow remove the Soulstone from play, take it out from his grasp, then he could no longer use it against Sanctuary or against dear Suna. He would have to give up on this plan of his against the humans. We could go home again. 

 

A quick, grade school level spell was all I needed to bring my plan to fruition. On the inside, I knew that no matter how hard I had hoped against hope, there would be no going back for Malthael and I after this. Too much had been lost and too much would be done. Neither of us would ever be the same after this. I could see him there as my feet carried me shakily a meter or so closer to the two, his scythes upraised as if he would strike at the witchdoctor once more. Suna’s sword was raised to block his attack, her face steely and determined though glistening with a sheen of sweat. 

 

“Malthael.” My voice cut through their dispute, bringing both my friend and my beloved swiveling around to face me.

 

I could feel his sucked in breath, the dropping of his stomach in horror and fear, as if it were my own when my Angel saw what I held in my hands.

 

This was what Ithereal meant. That I was the only one who could really stop Malthael. I couldn't change his mind, that much was certain. He believed himself to be doing the right thing, to be helping his fellow Angels. I could, however, stop him from completing his plan entirely.

 

In my hands, brimming with the combined malevolence of all seven Evils, was the Black Soulstone.

 

It wasn't happy to be there.

 

I could feel it vibrating, trying to escape the steel-tight grip I had on the hateful thing. Why? Could it sense that I was not of this world? That I would not be as easily corrupted or swayed like Tal Rasha or the poor Prince Aidan? My mind could not be invaded like the tragic Leah's could. I was not something that could be comprehended because I wasn't of Sanctuary, Heaven or the Burning Hells. I had come from a place beyond the Void. I was immune to their corruption, or as good as it. I was the Master of Death and it was time for me to take the title seriously.

 

“Harry! What are you doing?” Suna cried, her summoned hounds baying and snarling at Malthael but whimpering at the precarious and dangerous position I had placed myself into.

 

“Master...” Malthael whispered, his gravelly voice sending a pang through my bleeding heart. He was hurting, he was afraid for me. He had lost so much and it had driven him to desperation. “Harry, please, let the stone go.”

 

The smile I gave him was sad, tears welling up in my eyes. What would happen to him once this deed was done? What would happen to me?

 

“I love you, Malthael...but this  _ wrong _ .” The words came out in a sob, doing nothing to hide to pure grief and determination infusing every syllable with combined weakness and strength. “I won't let you destroy any more of this world. Of yourself. This isn't the Angel that I know and love and if seeing this thing away from your hands is what it takes to bring you back, then so be it!”

 

I heard him scream out my name, saw his arms outstretched to desperately try to reach me in time but he was too far away. Not even Angelic speed could stop this now.

 

With all of the strength that was possessed in my deceptively small frame, I  _ shoved _ the Black Soulstone into my own chest, forcing it into a new home there next to my own small and fragile broken heart.

 

I never felt myself hit the cool stone of the floor of what had once been our home. I never felt my Angel clutch me tightly to his chest as he tried in vain to remove the accursed thing from my body to no avail. My own internal magic, denied much of its natural outlet for so long, was fast at work forming a barrier around the stone, working to both take it in and keep it separated from delicate organs. All I could feel was magic and the steady pulse of blood within my body and it changed to suit its new purpose: a protecting sheath to contain the evil that resided within the stone.  

 

All sensation bled out of my form until there was nothing but pain and heat and the sensation of a furious force lashing out against the foreign magic that now ensnared it. My muscles contracted and I began to seize, unable to even find the strength to try and fight back against it. My senses were filled with red and the taste and smell of copper as blood began to leak from my nose, eyes and mouth. Was this dying? Was my world coming to an end at last? Yes...on both counts, but not in the way I had expected. 

 

Using his terror and helplessness against him, Suna took the opportunity presented to her.

 

While Malthael held my bleeding, seizing form close, the Nephalem drove her blade home.

 

So ended the terror of the Angel of Death. 


	12. The Things We Do

A/N: Gah! That last chapter got me right in my tender feels! I hope all of you enjoyed it as well and if you did please leave a review and tell me about it! Also feel free to follow me here on FFN or AO3 because I have more HP/Diablo coming in the future!

 

Disclaimer: Nope.

 

**Also this chapter goes to the guest reviewer Pk, for their awesome reviews that keep this author uplifted. :)**

 

**Chapter Eleven...The Things We Do**

 

_ “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”- A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens _

  
  


The seizure had dulled into a series of fine tremors when the soulstone was at last engulfed in my own natural natural magic to encase it. The relief came, only to be replaced with a new and startling agony of its own. Jutting out in front of my face where my Angel held me in his arms, was the blade of a longsword. Shining blood like molten sunshine slid thickly down its tip, smearing and dripping onto my front. A fat drop of the precious substance rolled heavily down my face. Suna’s sword...piercing through Malthael’s body. 

 

The Aspect of Death was still upright somehow though the strength of will it must have taken must have been unbearable. His pain echoed through him to me, that one contact of shining blood sparking a small, already fading connection between Master and Death. 

 

There was no time to cry out. There was no spare moment.

 

The instant Malthael saw me open my bloody eyes at last, reassured himself that I was going to make it through, he let go of the agonizing struggle that it took to just hold on to life. He died, still holding me in my arms.

 

In that single moment, feeling his body go still beneath my own, I hated Suna. I hated her with the rage of all of the fires in the Burning Hells. Suddenly, trapped in the midst of my own horror, grief and fury, I understood. I understood what drove my love to such atrocities. 

 

I had stopped him from using the soulstone! I had taken it from him! There was no need to kill him anymore!! But in her eyes, the deaths that he had caused were too great, his sins too vast. Balance and the dead demanded retribution. She had seen the dark deed done. Malthael’s body spasmed without warning, caught in its last death throws. If it hadn’t been for the witchdoctor that I had just been cursing on the inside, I likely would have been torn to pieces by the sudden onslaught of bright, furious streams of light pouring from his body.

 

The souls were being freed. Every one. All of the souls that he had taken in, had consumed to boost his own power, were released in a single instant. The death magic holding them within Pandemonium flared and then died, leaving the dead no longer shackled to the land of the living. It would have been beautiful in another time. It would have been uplifting to see all of those souls freed at last if it weren’t my beloved’s body they were tearing apart with their escape. Now, desperately reaching out for my Angel, tears and blood spilling down my face, I selfishly wished that they would stay. At least let me have something left to say goodbye to…

 

It was no gentle end, no easy giving up of the ghosts. No, in death, Malthael was losing his Aspect-hood. He was changing in the span of only a second or two. His wings which had drooped in his demise, flared with the streaming brightness that they had been before his change to the Aspect of Death. The souls escape in an explosion of light, the blast shaking the very stones underfoot, yet in the midst of it all, something was happening to my love’s body. The darkness that had surrounded him for as long as I had known the Angel fell away in a burst of light and shock overtook the pain that wracked my body and heart.

 

Malthael, in his death, had been absolved. 

 

It didn’t stop the pain of his loss from hurting any less. It didn’t change that the Angel I loved was gone now from me forever. 

 

“Harry.” It was Suna, kneeling down beside me from where she had dragged me away from the inevitable explosion of souls. I didn’t want to face her. Not yet. Not right now. Her hand pointed out towards the brightness though and her words stuttered my heart all over again. “Malthael...is there.”

 

He was there? How could that be? But she was right. In a way, at least.

 

There, flickering weakly like a small, sputtering candle flame was the Angel’s soul. 

 

Malthael’s victims had all been freed only to leave his own fading essence behind, still tied to my own in death. 

 

I crawled through the shining blood and ash leftover from the destruction of his body, hands slicing open on the broken shards of his armor, to cradle my hands around the tiny glowing orb. Nothing in Heaven, Earth or the Burning Hells could have described the bitterness that filled my spirit then, the sorrow as I sobbed broken tears over my love’s lost soul. That was how Tyrael found us moments later: Suna standing in silent vigil, her face unreadable save for the tiniest ray of guilt in her cocoa eyes and me, huddling over the dying ray of his brother’s essence, crying my pain to the skies. 

 

What must he have thought when he saw me there? Covered in ash and blood that was both my own and Malthael’s, the Black Soulstone embedded safely in my chest and cradling that tiny glowing flicker close. We must have made quite the sight.

 

My Angel’s soul gave a shudder between my hands and slowly began to dim. His soul was beginning to extinguish…

 

No! He couldn’t leave me here alone! 

 

What would my life be without him in it? I didn’t remember how to live without him now! Tyrael’s words echoed back at my cruelly, his uncertainty of what would happen to Malthael once he died a terror that seeped into my every pore. 

 

What could be done though? A soul needed a body to stabilize itself to, otherwise they would cross over and for Malthael that meant…

 

Destruction. Final and complete.

 

All hope was lost. There simply was no body in which to place his soul. 

 

“I can’t do this without you…” I whispered brokenly to him, the illumination of his spirit growing more dim by the moment, “Please don’t leave me. Not like this…” 

 

There was nothing he could do though, no way for him to respond and reassure me. No vast knowledge he could impart with so little strength left to him. I could do nothing.

 

I tried to bring him closer, to curl my body around him one last time but my hand knocked into the stone sitting over the flesh of my chest like some sort of bizarre, infused chestplate. The soulstone sat within my body, quieting now that its impotence had been demonstrated. My body now housed it so carefully as if I had been made for that purpose from the start. 

 

I shared my body with the stone now.

 

Shared...my body. 

 

The answer was so obvious that I could have cursed my own stupidity. If I could house the soulstone safely, my enemies’ spirits bound there in hate, then surely I could do the same for my beloved, an Angel that I shared an intimate and metaphysical connection with! He was Death and I was his Master. 

 

“Stay with me…Stay with me and I vow that I will never leave your side again. Not for the rest of my life.” Please work! Please let this work!

 

Carefully, with all of the gentleness of a mother with her infant, I eased the flickering spirit into my own body. It was...soft. Smooth in sensation, it reminded me of sunshine shimmering up through warm water. Nothing at all like the forced agony of the soulstone, our union was like that day when we made love at the Pools of Wisdom. It felt natural and right. With a sigh, Malthael found a home there, his soul sending  loving caress along the inside of my awareness before I felt him settle in to rest. 

 

With only a part of my awareness left, the other half listing under the weight of exhaustion, I heard Tyrael’s soft leather boots approach. He knelt down next to me, brushing my hair away from my blood-streaked face. His eyes were kind and sorrowful within his face but there was a relief there too. All of this destruction and chaos was over though he had lost a brother to its call. My vision began to fade and without preamble, he scooped me up bodily into his arms just as Malthael had done only a handful of hours earlier. The last thing that my slipping mind registered as I fell into unconsciousness was Suna’s whispered words in my ear.

 

“I am sorry, Harry…”

  
  


**_~O~_ **

 

“Malthael is defeated and Diablo is entrapped. Imperius will insist on you being...detained in the Heavens for the stone’s protection but I believe that the soulstone will be safer out of the hands of Angels and Demons.”

 

Suna nodded in agreement, looking up at me from where she was rubbing a soothing salve into the cuts on my hands. Her own palms were calloused and rough from weapons-use but they were gentle on my own regardless. I could read her regret in every touch and look the witchdoctor leveled me with. Painfully, the acceptance came that she had only been doing what she thought was right. I could no more fault her for that than she could fault me for grieving the Angel who tried to murder her.

 

“What will you do now?”

 

What would we do? Somehow, wandering the Void for all of eternity didn't seem entirely appealing even with Malthael safely enshrouded in the back of my mind, a cool and loving presence. Neither did remaining here with Tyrael and his Horadrim. This wasn’t where we belonged. Not now. Maybe not ever. But...I wanted to stop this from happening again, to make sure the Conflict remained a ceasefire and there was one place that my heart kept returning to, no matter what. The very place that I had been brought into this world in the first place. It would be there where we could do the most good and still be together in this strange symbiosis of ours.

 

“Malthael will not fade now that he is connected to me but after everything he’s done, I wouldn’t have him here on Sanctuary. We will return to Pandemonium and guard the realms there, stop any demons or errant sorcerers from crossing over where they don't belong.”

 

Yes. That was far better a mission than floating through the deep darkness for the rest of time. Malthael and I together in the only way we could be now. The new Aspect of Wisdom nodded slowly in understanding, begrudgingly, but after a moment, his eyes alighted with a newfound energy.

 

“Actually...I have a better idea.”

 

**_~O~_ **

 

Tyrael’s direction, peculiarly enough, found us in the High Heavens standing before the crux of the Heavens themselves.

 

The Crystal Arch.

 

The seat of Heaven’s power and the place from where Angels were born. 

 

And reborn.

 

“We must be quick, Harry. Before Imperius arrives.” The Archangel explained in a rush, “I fear that he may try to stop this.”

 

His reasonings were beyond my understanding but I would not argue with them. Not if it meant Malthael returning to me at some point in the future.

 

“He will be reborn?”

 

My question was tentative, uncertain. Now that we were here, I was afraid. Afraid of letting him go and losing him forever. My hands trembled around his luminous spirit, the warmth emanating from it stronger than before but still weak, still low. What if I did this thing and he was never reborn? What if this was it for us? Fear sat heavy and solid in my chest and coiled in my belly like a nest of snakes and something else. A strange sensation that I could no more name than I could become a tree. A pulling of sorts at my soul itself.

 

“I am certain of it.” My companion nodded decisively, “It...may take some time though. Rarely do these things happen immediately. Malthael may not be reborn for months, years...centuries. Are you prepared to wait that long for him to return?” 

 

There was no questioning it. Feeling as though my heart was bleeding itself dry with every beat, my hands opened and slowly eased my love’s soul into the stone of the archway. Malthael disappeared into the marble and silver as if he had never been in the first place and I was left alone with that peculiar gnawing at my spirit. 

 

“Always.” Came my whispered promise, remembering the vow that had been made back in Pandemonium. 

 

Suddenly and without warning, there was a  _ tug _ , a hot pull on the essence of my very being. My vision burst into white light and vaguely, I could hear my companion calling my name, feel his hands on my shoulders shaking me but only light filled my vision. Unlike when I had taken in the Black Soulstone, this heat wasn’t pain. It was…

 

Hope. Warmth. Love. 

 

And inside, I was shifting. 

 

My soul itself was changing to fit some new mould that I couldn’t begin to fathom. The edges of my vision began to clear and the shifting slowed and then stopped. It occurred to me very quickly that the cause of the light hadn’t been my eyes, it was largely in part due to the massive ball of white lightning that had filled the space between the arch. Behind us, I could hear Imperius shouting to his men and Tyrael. I hadn’t even realized that he had arrived.

 

The lightning orb began to shrink smaller and smaller, from a meter across to a few feet and then at last to a foot. Inside, one could start to make out the shape of some black object floating in the center.

 

“Harry.” Tyrael called out to me, his voice more clear and calm than I had ever heard it, “Reach out and take them.”

 

Them?

 

Sure enough, when my eyes could at last make out the objects, timidly I did as I was bid. The handles were warm in my palms as if they had been lying in the sun but they were as familiar to me as they had been when last I had seen my beloved wield them.

 

Malthael’s sickles. 

 

The sight of them made something hollow inside of myself echo out in pain. As long as I had known him, the Angel of Death had never been without his faithful scythes, Ar’mortis. When Malthael had fallen, I hadn’t even thought to look for them before we left Pandemonium. Realizing that, guilt seeped into that empty cavern in my heart to fill in the spaces alongside the grief.

 

Imperius, I could see when my gaze swivelled back to the Angels, was practically  _ vibrating _ with suppressed fury. At his side Auriel and an annoyingly smug Ithereal stood in witness to the event. The Aspect of Hope at least appeared pleased at the happenings.

 

“Happy new beginnings to you, brother.” She declared brightly, her aura sparkling in delight. 

 

“Brother?” Did I sound as much like an idiot as I felt?

 

Wisdom’s smile was bright and welcoming, “Indeed! It seems as though the Crystal Arch has chosen its new Aspect of Death.” 

 

When the confusion didn’t clear for me right away Ithereal approached me gently, laying a hand on my shoulder and permeating my awareness with a sense of calm.

 

“Death became an Aspect when the arch instigated the change in Malthael. Now, that position must be filled just as Wisdom needed to be when my brother abandoned it. Soon, a new Justice will be chosen to take Tyrael’s place. Who better to take the position than yourself? Who better to understand the tenuous cycle of life and death and the sanctity of both than the Master of Death himself? You are now the second mortal Archangel, Harry. As I told you, I always knew that you were destined for great things.” He explained softly. His being took on an amused air quickly and Ithereal finished off his explanation with a simple, “ You were always meant to be exactly where you are.” 

  
  
  
  
  



	13. The Root I Lack

A/N: It’s here at last!!! The last chapter! :D Oh my Bat-Mite! I hope all of you really enjoyed this fic and thank you for joining me on this bumpy road to finishing it up! 

 

Disclaimer: Nope.

 

**_Chapter Twelve...The Root I Lack_ **

 

**_“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the Ages of this world alone.”-Arwen, Lord of the Rings_ **

 

For six months, I waited at the Crystal Arch, never able to enter the High Heavens by command of the imperious, and aptly named, Imperius but unwilling to leave my beloved's side even as he waited for rebirth. It was on the eve of the six month mark that Ithereal came to my side. He said nothing at first, simply watched me as I leaned my forehead against the Arch, eyes closed as if I were listening intently.

 

“I can feel him there. Inside. He presses up against the inside sometimes, brushing against the otherside. It feels like...feathers brushing against my awareness. Like coming home for just a moment.” Then it was gone again just as quickly as it came. I fought the urge to cry at the thoughts spinning through my mind. The time for tears was long past now. “Do you think he can feel me too, Ithereal? Do you think he will even remember me?”

 

He made a small hum of fond amusement and I felt his hand come to rest on my shoulder. My eyes, once an ethereal emerald but now an even more heavenly shine, found his figure at last. My fingertips brushed one last caress against the crystal structure.

 

“Of that, I am certain, Harry.”

 

My heart lifted just slightly at his proclamation. Ithereal had access to the Scroll of Fate, Talus'ar. If he said it would be so then I had no doubts as to the validity of his claim. Malthael would not be a stranger to me when at last he was reborn. It eased much of the fears that had festered within my heart these many months.

 

“Malthael told me once about how the Arch came to be. How the Angels were born and about the creator god, Anu, and his battle with Tathamet, the great leviathan. Such beauty born from such death.”

 

Malthael, in the midst of his madness, had been right on one account. In death, there could be peace. After all, without the death of Anu, the eldest of his children would have never been born. Malthael would have never risen into existence.

 

Ithereal merely inclined his head in acknowledgment of his brother's admittedly vast knowledge and teachings. It did not surprise him that my love had taught me much of it.

 

“Speaking of my brother and tales from times past, would you like to assist me with something, Harry? It might give you something to focus your thoughts on while you wait.”

 

Wait for Malthael. Wait to be freed from this limbo that had become my world. Wait for my life to begin again.

 

My gaze cast around at the six ever-present, ever-watchful Luminarei standing around the edge of the platform warily. Originally, their sole purpose had once been to guard the Crystal Arch and to protect it from harm. Now, however, their general had ordered them to guard the Black Soulstone in order to “prevent another catastrophe”. No matter where I went or what I did, they would always be there to watch over me now. I wasn't at all appreciative of the discrete threat or the endless silence. Imperius didn't trust me with the stone, that much was clear. He had been more than a little angry when he learned that not only could the stone not be destroyed without killing me as well but it could not be kept under lock and key in a prison of his making either. Not that what I experienced now was much different. I had been forbidden from wandering into the rest of the High Heavens but neither could I return to Sanctuary and leave Malthael behind. I had made a promise.

 

“I am not permitted-”

 

“Nonsense.” Ithereal interjected with a cold sort of amusement in his aura that I got the distinct impression was reserved not for me but for his disagreeable sibling, “I have had words with Imperius.”

 

The look on my face at the mere mention of the Aspect of Valor must have shown my clear dislike for the Angel that was now considered my  _ brother _ . The idea of our new relation left a sour taste in my mouth. Ithereal's hand on my shoulder squeezed and his voice dropped low and sad.

 

“I know it is hard to see but Imperius is hurting too, Harry. Malthael and he were very close before Wisdom left the Heavens. He never knew why and then when he reappears, Malthael was so...changed. One day they shared a closeness that Imperious has never had with another and the next, they stood as enemies. I know it is difficult. His attitude certainly doesn't endear himself to anyone but try to understand from his perspective.”

 

Well...damn. I guess I could sort of feel for him to some extent. At least until he opened his mouth again. Sighing, I shrugged noncommittally.

 

“Very well. What is it that you need my help with?”   

 

“How much did Malthael tell you about the tomes in the Library of Fate?”

 

“Well...I know they aren’t actually books but crystals instead? They all tie together to Talus’ar. That’s pretty much it.”

 

“Yes, well, during his siege, it seems Diablo did some damage to the Library…”

 

**_~O~_ **

 

It would be two years and seven months before the song would begin to sing for the birth of my Angel. Nine hundred and fourty-five days before I laid eyes on Malthael once again. I knew the instant the song began that it would be for him. 

 

My legs have never carried me anywhere faster.

 

I had been resettling the last of the crystals in the library, the remnants of the past fading at last from the Heavens, when I heard the Angels begin to sing. It was beautiful. Less of an actual sound and more of a reverberation within the soul itself. It was lovely but that was all it was to me. Beautiful. Ethereal. But nothing more.

 

Until today.

 

When that song began to sing, it resonated through my entire being. It intoned that joyful sound just for me, calling me forth from the depths of the still Library of Fate. The slapping of my bare feet against the warm marble of the Heavens echoed against the stone and Angels were quick to move out of my way as the tugging on my heart pulled me towards the Crystal Arch as fast as my body could carry me. It was time! At long last! The mutterings of a few Angels here and there did not faze me as some seemed to flinch out of my way. Not all of the residents of the High Heavens had accepted me among their kin. 

 

Tyrael didn’t have much trouble because he had started out life as an Angel. Me? I wasn’t even from this  _ realm _ . I was a mortal Angelic Aspect. Not only that but many of them distrusted me for the soulstone embedded in my chest. They expected the darkness within the stone to corrupt and overtake me. My eyes glinted with steely determination at the idea. No, Diablo would not be inhabiting this body. I was the Master of Death, the Aspect of Death, and to try to overtake my body would mean only his own demise. My body was meant for only one...And at last that one was returning to me.

 

The age old nervousness returned to me full force. Would Malthael be changed when he returned? Would he be different? Ithereal had assured me that he would remember me but would Malthael even still want me? I had a direct hand in his death after all. Would he understand? Would he forgive me? The Aspect of Fate was waiting at the arch alongside the rest of the Archangel Squad, as I jokingly called them. Imperius’s aura spiked with disdain at my approach but nodded and cooled at the sight of my ever present Luminarei shadow. He had compromised on allowing me to roam the Heavens as long as two of the shining guards accompanied me at all times. It was a small price to pay for my freedom. 

 

Auriel swooped over to my side, her hand falling to my shoulder with an affectionate squeeze.

 

“It’s time?” My fevered whisper came out almost desperate sounding but I couldn’t even care. 

 

Her nod sent a thrill of joy coursing through my heart and I could feel Hope’s smile in her presence.

 

“It’s time, little brother.” 

 

The arch began to luminesce like a great silver sun, brighter and brighter as it had when it gifted me the Ar,mortis. Tyrael’s hand found the small of my back and gave me a gentle push forward towards the glowing arch where my love would emerge any moment. Would he look the same? Would he  _ be _ the same Angel that I had long called my own? 

 

A tall form hovered out of the light, it’s wings only distinguishable against the shine because of the light purple hue in the writhing appendages. Simple, dark grey, rather than the black he had worn before, robes trimmed in white cloaked the body, inbued here and there with his silver armor. Pauldrons, a chest plate, arm and shin guards. They all gleamed in the glare of the now fading arch-light. 

His feet touched down on the ground with a light ‘clink’ of his armored boots. Gravity, it seemed though, was a little too much for the newborn Angel. He began to buckle under the weight of his own body and it was only my running forward to catch his taller figure. For someone who was covered in armor, he was surprisingly light. 

 

‘Like new fallen snow…,’ was the first thought that came to mind.

 

Feeling him there, in my arms once again...It was painful. Fear was thick in my throat. What if he rejected me? What if Imperius found a way to separate us? 

 

What if these two years of loneliness and despair were for nothing? If that was all I could expect for the rest of my extremely long life? 

 

My heart was a thunderous roar in my ears.

 

He lifted his head up to look into my face, my eyes, and his breath came out in a shaking sigh. 

 

“Master…” 

 

His voice wasn’t as scratchy, as harsh, as it was before his death. That one word dissuaded my fears more than anything else he could have said to me. In it was all of the hope, love and regret that a single word could hold. The short laugh that forced out of my hammering chest carried with it more relief and tears than I could have ever enunciated for myself. 

 

It was Ithereal who approached us first, just as Malthael’s hand rose to trace the contours of my face as if he would memorize it all over again. 

 

“Not your Master any longer, Malthael. The Aspect of Justice has no master.” 

 

The sound of my head whipping around to face the Angel was audible and rather unsuccessfully I tried not to gape. Justice?

 

“Malthael is the Aspect of Justice?!” Now wasn’t that the realm’s greatest irony?

 

“I am...Justice.” The former Angel of Death whispered in a pensive voice, tasting the truth of the words in his mouth. His attention zeroed back in on me once more, “And you are Death.” 

 

“It is true, brother. After all, the Aspects must be filled. There can be no empty role for long. The balance of the universe will see it filled one way or another.” Auriel explained, touching her restored brother’s back lightly in greeting.

 

“Welcome home, brother.” Tyrael’s smile was bright and free of the lines of worry and stress that had carved it in the days of the Evils.

 

Malthael’s wings and arms both encircled me at once, dragging me against his body until we could have been one if not for the physical barriers separating us. 

 

“No, not yet.” He shook his head at Tyrael’s words before his hand stroked my cheek tenderly, “Let us go home, Harry.” 

 

With a flex of power and a swear from the wrathful Imperius, we disappeared, leaving the Heavens behind. Finally, it no longer felt like my life was on hold. I was at last leaving limbo behind. No longer was I lost or frozen with no end in sight. 

 

Pandemonium and our life together awaited.

  
  
  


FIN.


End file.
